Children Shouldn't Live Like This
by SUITELIFEFAN
Summary: Gavroche wasn't born a street urchin. Abused by his father and cast out of the Thénardier household, the young boy must find his way through life on the streets, and realize that asking for help doesn't mean weakness. Re-dramatisation of Gavroche's life.
1. Alone

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 1**

There was a sickening crunch as the fragile body, already bruised and broken, hit the ebony table with sufficient force to snap two of its four legs. Amidst the ringing in his ears, the burning sensation that seemed to be radiating from his skin and the loud shouting coming from the other side of the room, eight-year-old Gavroche tasted copper in his mouth and realized that he had bitten himself.

He was then distracted from the taste by another glancing blow to the side of his face, sending him flying like a helpless ragdoll across the floor.

"You useless TWIT!"

Stubbornly willing himself to not show weakness, Gavroche bit down on his lower lip, trembling involuntarily, trying not to cry despite his desire to plead for mercy. Dark spots were gradually arising in his vision.

"All you had to do was to send a message to one of the gang, and you still couldn't do that right!"

A fire burning within his throat, Gavroche ignored the pain and argued back.

"You din't write the address properly!"

"DON'T YOU DARE BLAME ME, BRAT!"

Gavroche closed his eyes as he waited for his father's hand to descend yet again, and was completely taken aback by what came next. In a fit of blind rage, Thenardier picked up an empty beer bottle, one of the many that graced the kitchen counter, and swung it at Gavroche. The boy's self-control finally broke, a pained yell escaping his mouth as the bottle met its mark, shattering into pieces upon his forehead, leaving behind a violent cut below his fringe. Gavroche rolled onto his back and covered his forehead with both palms, tears finally slipping out from under his eyelids as crimson blood leaked from between his fingers.

"I'll teach you to disobey me, you-"

"Papa, no! You'll kill him!"

Gavroche could hardly see behind the shower of tears and rapidly flowing blood that compromised his vision, but the familiar voice rang beautifully in his ears, a voice that came from the only person who had a heart in the accursed family.

Eponine.

"Step aside, girl!"

"Put down the bottles, Papa! You're drunk, and Gavroche is hurt!"

"SEE IF I CARE. THAT USELESS BRAT-"

A second bottle flew in Gavroche's direction, narrowly missing him and shattering against the wall.

"-CAN'T EVEN DO ANYTHING RIGHT! I DON'T KNOW HOW YOUR MOTHER BIRTHED SUCH AN ABOMINATION!"

Despite the iron will against painful words that Gavroche had been forced to use to protect himself with from a very young age, the last word in his father's sentence cut intensely into his heart. His sobbing became more rapid and pronounced as all remaining shreds of dignity that he had demanded of himself fell to the ground, forgotten.

"I'm…I'm s-sorry, p-papa! I din't mean to!"

"I'll teach you to make a mistake like that again, boy! STEP ASIDE, EPONINE!"

Gavroche glanced up in horror as his father landed a stinging slap against his daughter's cheek, Eponine audibly wincing in pain. He wanted to yell out, to scream, to holler out for his sister to step aside and protect herself from their father's rage, but the pounding in his ears had grown so loud that he found himself incapable of even saying another word or moving another muscle. Trying to stay conscious, Gavroche leant against the wall and tried to control his breathing, which, despite being a simple task, was piercing into him with every breath.

"What the hell's going on here?!"

Both Eponine and her father glanced at the source of the voice, Madame Thenardier, who had finally woken from her slumber upon the loud noises coming from the floor below. Seeing the faint handprint on Eponine's cheek and her husband's angry expression, she shouted as she approached the pair, cuffing Monsieur Thenardier on his head.

"DON'T YOU DARE LAY A HAND ON MY DAUGHTER, YOU BASTARD!"

"It's all because of the boy! HE DIDN'T DELIVER THE MESSAGE!"

Madame Thenardier then caught sight of her son huddled in a corner, sobbing pathetically.

"Punish the boy if you have to, but don't hurt our daughter, you TWAT!"

"Fine, FINE! You crazy hag!"

As her father stepped aside from her and walked towards her little brother, Eponine's eyes widened dramatically as she turned to her mother, pleading for mercy on Gavroche's behalf.

"Maman, please! Gavroche is badly hurt already, ask Papa to let him off!"

"Eponine, dear, your brother deserves every beating your Papa gives him." Her mother's sickeningly-sweet tone of voice disgusted her. "He has ruined our plans so many times already, I'm beginning to wonder if it's worth keeping him around."

Upon hearing his mother's words, fresh tears of melancholy fell from Gavroche's eyes as he wiped old ones away.

"You hear that, brat? That's what your mother and I think of you. I actually had faith that you'd grow up to become a valuable part of the Thenardier clan, but so far you've been entirely WORTHLESS!"

Gavroche screamed in pain as his father picked him up by his dirty blond hair, lifting him onto his feet. Eponine's desperate pleas fell on deaf ears.

"YOU'VE OUTSTAYED YOUR WELCOME HERE IN THIS HOUSE, KID!"

With a violent kick, the front door flew open, letting in the cold, winter air that bit into Gavroche's bones. The ground was covered with a thick layer of freshly fallen snow. Gavroche then realized what his father was about to do.

"No…Papa, PLEASE! I won't make that mistake again! PAPA!"

"Throw him out and SHUT THE DOOR! THE SNOW IS GETTING IN!"

"Papa, don't do it!"

Gavroche found himself airborne as his father swung him out of the house and into the street. The door slammed. Landing painfully on the blanket of snow, Gavroche scrambled to find his footing. Glancing back at the house where his nightmares remained, he felt his tears freezing in the cold Parisian winter.

For the few years of his life he had longed for this. He had longed to be freed from the hellhole that was the Thenardier's residence. He had desired no less than the ability to walk away from the pain and the verbal abuse that was hurled at him day after the day, from the two people he had, despite their uncountable shortcomings, still regarded grudgingly as parents.

He finally had that now.

But why did it hurt so much? Hadn't he wanted this for so long already?

Why did it hurt to be…alone?

Despite himself, Gavroche found himself gasping as he stumbled back towards the closed door, ignoring the pain that threatened to tear apart his tiny, undernourished body, and knocking desperately on the door.

"Maman! Papa! Je suis désolé! JE SUIS DÈSOLÈ!"

From behind the wooden door, Gavroche could hear his older sister pleading his case, but to no avail.

"I won't mess up again, Papa! I WON'T MESS UP AGAIN!"

The sound of another glass bottle shattering against the wooden door startled the boy, but Gavroche continued knocking. The biting of the cruel winter wind was starting to hurt.

"It's cold, Maman, Papa! Please! Let me in!"

The tears didn't stop.

"Je suis désolé! Laissez-moi entrer, maman, papa!"

Suddenly, the door flew upon. Any hopes that Gavroche had of being reprieved were dashed at the murderous expression on Monsieur Thenardier's face. Too heartbroken and tired to harness any energy to duck, Gavroche felt, for the umpteenth time that night, a fist thrust into his torso, this time audibly breaking a few of his ribs as it slammed into him with a force that mirrored what he had felt months ago when he had accidentally fallen from the second-storey window of a building. Airborne yet again, Gavroche landed on his back at the foot of the steps leading up to the house, his vision rapidly darkening.

"And STAY OUT!"

The door slammed shut yet again, this time with vicious finality.

The pain from his innumerous injuries gradually faded as Gavroche fell into the heavy pit of darkness that was unconciousness.

The snow continued to fall.

* * *

**Author's Note** – My first fic in this fandom! I'll stay true as much as possible to the movieverse and the novel, but I won't hesistate to change a few details if I find it necessary to wrap up the story nicely. The story will last for a few chapters, at this point we see Gavroche at age eight, and as we progress we'll gradually see him grow in both age and character. Think of this as a…re-dramatization of sorts.

Reviews greatly appreciated. I hope I managed to pull of this scene effectively.


	2. Discovered

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 2**

"For God's sake Enjolras, stop pacing and sit down. You're giving us all a headache."

Completely absorbed in his work scrawled on the makeshift blackboard in the café, Enjolras ignored Marius' request and continued pacing, muttering to himself as new ideas sprung to his head. Every few minutes, he snatched up a piece of chalk and made an assortment of fresh scribbles, then swore under his breath as he erased said fresh idea impatiently with his coat sleeve. Behind him sat Marius, who watched bemusedly as he sipped from his mug.

"Seriously, give it a rest, Enjolras. There's no deadline for this plan of yours, there's no need to stress yourself out unnecessarily as of yet."

Upon hearing his words, Enjolras halted his frenzied pacing and turned to face his friend, speaking with an irritated tone of voice that mirrored his scribbling.

"The key point is that this will happen eventually, Marius. I trusted that you'd understand this when we started the Les Amis. At some point we, the students, _will _have to act, to _stand up_ for the people, to _bear arms_. And I'll be _damned_ if we're not ready when the time comes, whenever it-"

"Okay! Okay, Enjolras," Marius hastily rose both hands as he attempted to pacify his frustrated friend. "We'll be ready when the time comes, for sure. Just take a seat and get a drink. You look like you've been through twenty revolutions and died that number of times already."

Enjolras grimaced as he took in Marius' words. Tossing the chalk in his hands onto the table, he sank heavily into the seat offered to him, raising a weary hand to signal to the barman. Smiling at his minor success, Marius raised his mug to his lips yet again as he spoke absentmindedly to the other person seated directly next to him.

"Quite exciting, isn't it, Grantaire? Grantaire?"

Getting no response, Marius turned to his left and groaned at the sight of Grantaire slumped over at the table, fast asleep. Three empty mugs, as of yet uncollected by the Café staff, sat in front of his unconscious form. Marius confirmed his mental absence by prodding him violently with the same chalk that Enjolras had previously used on the blackboard, to no avail.

"Monsieur Grantaire will get himself into a plethora of health problems if he doesn't lay off the drinks."

Marius turned and grinned at the other student sitting directly across him at the table. Joly practiced medicine, a far cry from his own study of law, but the two had always gotten along exceptionally well, frequently pairing up to make jokes at their friends' expense. A whimsical thought arose in his head. Joly, as though reading Marius' mind through the change in his facial expression, chuckled as he leant forward over the table.

"I don't think Enjolras would appreciate what I think you have in mind, Marius. Our friend is much too caught up with thoughts of the revolution to participate in our usual banter today."

Enjolras raised his head, looked to and fro between his two friends, and muttered.

"You two freak me out."

The two snickered at the comment.

Just as Enjolras had obtained another full mug from the Café waitress, a loud shout from the street caught the attention of every person sitting in the café.

"JOLY!"

Marius hastily sat his mug down onto the table, a worried expression taking shape on his face as he took in the silhouette of a man with a bundle of cloth in his arms, taking difficult but rapid steps through the thick snow towards the café. Enjolras frowned as he paid the waitress and pushed his full mug to the side of the table, drink forgotten. Grantaire, finally woken by the loud shout, smacked his head painfully on the edge of the table in a manner that would have been comical if the atmosphere had not turned tense. Rubbing his forehead, Grantaire winced.

"What the…what the hell was that?"

"JOLY!"

Upon hearing his name for the second time, Joly rose to his feet, accidentally knocking his jacket from the back of the chair to the floor just as the silhouette stepped into the café. The light from the café lit up said silhouette. Joly's eyes widened as he took in the disturbing sight. Their fellow student, Courfeyrac, stood before them with fresh snow in his hair and on his shoulders, his coat messily wrapped around a large bundle of rags. Joly's doctor instincts kicked into play as he spotted Courfeyrac's hands, which were drenched in an ominously familiar red liquid.

"Courfeyrac, speak to us."

Their friend looked terribly distraught, wheezing a little as he tried to catch his breath. The sight of their usually cheerful friend looking so terrified was disconcerting to the four students. Even Grantaire seemed to have sobered within seconds, a commendable feat.

"Are you hurt?"

Having finally caught his breath, Courfeyrac spoke in a voice more serious than any of them had ever heard from his throat.

"It's not me."

Quickly moving to an empty table, Courfeyrac placed the large bundle down. Only then did Joly realize that most of the blood appeared to be on the rags instead of Courfeyrac himself. Aside from his bloody hands, the student seemed to be unhurt. As Courfeyrac rapidly undid the bundle, he spoke incoherently.

"I found him a few streets away in the snow. It's falling so fast that it almost covered him completely. I wouldn't have spotted him if it were for all the blood. God, there was so much blood…"

Enjolras rose to his feet.

"Him? What are you-"

As Courfeyrac finally removed his own coat from the top of the bundle, the entire café fell silent for a second time that night. Joly didn't waste a second, immediately striding forward to the table and doing a basic inspection. Marius rose to his feet as well, staring down at the bundle's contents in alarm. Grantaire remained seated, suddenly overwhelmed by nausea that was, for once, not a result of his drinking binge.

"God."

* * *

As Joly worked feverishly behind the closed bedroom door, the other four students sat in the small living room, listening to Courfeyrac's tale. The room had not been used for ages, a slightly overpriced guesthouse above the café, the closest possible venue the students could think of as a location where Joly could do what he had to do. The atmosphere within the room was tense and gloomy.

"…so I wrapped him in my coat and a couple of rags that I was bringing from my sister's place to keep him warm. He was so damn _cold_ that I could see that he had turned blue even beneath all the blood on his face-"

"You need to calm down, Courfeyrac." Marius placed a hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder. "That was pretty quick thinking, what you did. If you didn't wrap him up he might have gotten far worse. You did the right thing."

Courfeyrac ran his hands through his hair distractedly, as though to exercise off his nervous energy.

"I just don't understand, Marius. I just don't…understand how someone could have-"

"-done that to a child."

All eyes turned to Grantaire, who was surprisingly abstemious despite the fourth mug of alcohol in his hand. His eyes darkened as he raised the glass to his mouth, his words full of venom as he spat.

"Whoever did that is a cruel, cruel bastard."

It was unfamiliar for Marius to observe his friend uttering a coherent sentence despite being chugged full with spirits, but he decided to chalk it up to the shock from what they had observed just minutes ago. Enjolras stood away from the group, looking out of the window distractedly as he analyzed the night sky, which was still pouring white. He then spoke.

"Any idea which family he's from? His name?"

Courfeyrac looked at Enjolras.

"No clue."

Marius seemed to fall into deep thought.

"He was dressed in rags, though. He might have been one of those…street urchins, you know? Children that wander the streets without a proper home. I don't know why anybody would hurt a kid that badly. He seems completely harmless."

Enjolras swallowed. As the thought of what he had been preparing for over the past year flew back swiftly into his consciousness, he was suddenly filled with an unexplainable anger. It was no surprise to anyone that the lowest class of society, stricken with poverty, would do anything, even strike down those who couldn't fight back, to ensure their own survival.

_And the rich sleep peacefully in their beds. _

The thought was enough to hurt him down to his core.

"Paris has fallen into a terrible state."

Before anyone else could comment on Enjolras' ominous statement, the bedroom door flew open. Enjolras, Marius, Grantaire and Courfeyrac rose simultaneously, anxious to hear good news about their unknown young charge, but worried at the grave expression on Joly's face. As the medical student wiped his bloodstained hands with a spare piece of cloth, he looked into his friends' eyes, took a calming breath and spoke, taking considerable effort to steady his voice.

"Broken left leg at two sections, firstly an impact fracture at the femur, secondly another impact fracture at the tibia. Cracked collarbone. Broken right arm, likely caused by direct impact from a heavy object. Large head wound on forehead, likely caused by a sharp object, perhaps broken glass. That one caused most of the blood loss. Worst injury caused by three broken ribs, one of which, I think, has punctured his right lung. He's still breathing, but just barely. He's moderately hypothermic, as you all see earlier, I believe, from his bluish skin. You probably saved his life there just now, Courfeyrac. If he had been exposed to the cold any longer he would definitely have perished."

Trying to get into a steadfast mindset and ignoring the appalled expressions on the faces of his friends, Joly snatched up his coat from the table.

"I understand that this is quite horrible, but I need your help. I need to return to the university hospital and pick up some supplies to fix him up, or else he won't survive the night. Anesthetic, blood, bandages, basic operating equipment. Only two of you need to follow me. The remaining two…" he paused as he buttoned up his coat. "…can remain here with Gavroche."

Marius raised an eyebrow.

"Gavroche?"

"His name was sewn on the back of his shirt. Now could we _please_ hurry?"

Enjolras stepped forward and snatched up his own coat, speaking with resolution.

"I'll follow you to the hospital. Marius?"

"Lead the way, Joly."

Joly smiled.

"Thank you. Courfeyrac, Grantaire, I've bandaged up his head wound and stopped the bleeding for the moment, but I haven't worked with his bones as of yet. Try not to move him further, or it might aggravate his condition. If he wakes, and he just might, talk to him and calm him down."

"You have our word, Joly."

"Merci."

As the three students dashed down the staircase to the café, Courfeyrac remembered an important detail and stuck his head out of the door, shouting to their doctor.

"Oi! Joly! What if he stops breathing?"

Joly paused his race down the steps and turned his head to face his friend, a grim expression gracing his tired features.

"Let's hope it doesn't come down to that."

In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

* * *

**Author's Note** – Very quick update from me here, please don't expect this so much, I can only update so quickly during the weekend. I've been wondering how I'm going to pace and story and how to spread it out over the different chapters. So far I've considered writing chapters that are relatively moderate in size so you guys can obtain more content at quicker intervals.

Reviews please.


	3. Eponine

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 3**

The tense atmosphere hadn't yet evaporated from the tiny bedroom, but the quiet brought about by the absence of three provided an ambiance that allowed for silent contemplation on the part of the two that had remained behind. They sat, one on each side of the bed, on which lay a young boy whose origin was uncertain and whose fate was even more so.

Courfeyrac couldn't help but stare at the child by the name of Gavroche, who was now a much more pleasant sight, now that Joly had wiped his face clean of blood and bandaged up his forehead wound. The boy lay snug under the covers of the bed, his skin now significantly more pinkish as the blue tinge faded away, thanks to the multiple hot water bottles Courfeyrac could see sticking out from under the covers and under the boy's armpits.

Gavroche looked peaceful as he slept, angel-like even, despite his dirty blond hair, which looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks. His similarly filthy shirt lay on the bedside table, and Courfeyrac could see Gavroche's bones clearly as his skin lay flattened over them. When carrying him to the café Courfeyrac had been too panicked to process exactly how light he seemed to be, and now his suspicions had been made clear. The child barely had any meat on his bones. He was likely undernourished, for reasons that had not been made clear to them as of yet.

The boy looked so weak and broken that the only evidence of him being alive was the very gentle rising and falling of the blanket as he inhaled and exhaled. Every fifth breath, he would give an unconscious gasp, undoubtedly struggling a little for air thanks to the injury that Joly had earlier described.

"He's so young…" Courfeyrac shook his head as he spoke, more to himself than to Grantaire. "How old do you think he is?"

Grantaire looked away from the empty wall that he had been staring at in silence and observed the boy's features.

"He looks around five or six, looks that size too. I'd say he's about eight or nine."

Noticing Courfeyrac's confused expression, Grantaire shrugged.

"That's how it is for most kids who live on the street. Not having enough food and all that, they're underdeveloped. This boy, what's his name, Gavroche? He definitely hasn't been eating enough. You can see his bones under his skin."

It turns out Courfeyrac hadn't been the only one to notice the disturbing sight.

"It baffles me how anyone could hurt a kid, though. What could he possibly have to…" Courfeyrac exasperatedly waved a hand in Gavroche's direction. "…to deserve _this_?"

Grantaire stared at the comatose boy for a second more before turning away.

"I'm relatively impartial towards Enjolras' opinion towards the upper classes, but…" He finished his fourth drink. "I think he might be right on that count."

"That Paris has fallen into a terrible state?"

"It's inevitable, isn't it?" Grantaire set his mug down onto the floor gently, not wanting to wake the sleeping child. "I don't give a rat's ass about revolution, but the greater the inequality between the upper and lower classes, the more likely it is for all this to happen."

"The poor getting poorer and the rich getting richer?"

"Precisely." Grantaire was alarmingly clear-minded for someone as typically drunk as he was, an observation that surprised Courfeyrac to no end. "We'll see more unrest, more people on the streets, more children like him getting beaten down because they tried to steal a piece of bread or because they frustrated the authorities too much with their begging."

Grantaire rested his feet on the edge of the bed.

"We live in a disgusting city, Courfeyrac."

Courfeyrac didn't know how to respond as Grantaire continued to mumble to himself.

"A disgusting, disgusting city…"

A pained gasp, louder than the ones they had heard from before, broke through from the bed, causing Courfeyrac to immediately whip his head around and Grantaire to nearly fall off his chair in surprise. Courfeyrac clenched his hands into fists anxiously as he spotted the expression on Gavroche's face, now an aggrieved frown despite him still being asleep. As the boy started to turn and toss slightly within the covers, Courfeyrac looked at Grantaire uneasily.

"What's going on? Is he having a nightmare?"

"I think so. Damn…if he keeps moving around like that he's going to hurt himself further without realizing it. Come on, help me hold him steady."

With slight awkwardness the two grown men crawled onto the bed and sat on the covers to prevent Gavroche from shaking them off. As Grantaire carefully shifted himself next to Gavroche's hips to prevent him from rolling excessively, Courfeyrac copied his movements, but on the other side. They could feel the boy struggling slightly still.

Then, he spoke.

"Papa…no…"

Both students paused as they heard the boy's voice for the first time.

"Je suis désolé…I din't…din't mean it…"

Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

"I…I'm…I'm sorry…don't, papa…no…"

Courfeyrac could almost feel his soul being crushed upon hearing the little boy's words and his fragile tone of voice. Gavroche sounded more and more tense as his struggling increased rapidly.

"I'll never…never do…do it again papa…"

The frown on his face had become more pronounced.

"It hurts…it's cold, maman, papa…let me…let me in…"

Grantaire clenched his jaw in anger. The real reason for Gavroche's condition was becoming more and more apparent to them now. Softer than he had said all previous words, Gavroche's rolling gradually simmered down as he uttered one final phrase.

"I'm sorry…"

A teardrop materialized in the corner of his eye, slowly rolling down the side of his face as his words reduced themselves into inaudible mutters. Finally, the boy fell silent, once again breathing slowly and peacefully as the nightmare ended, the only evidence of what had just conspired being the single path of moisture that led from under his eyelid to his temple.

Wordlessly, Courfeyrac leant over Gavroche and carefully used his thumb to wipe off said moisture. Both men climbed off the bed and returned to their respective seats on the sides of the bed. Courfeyrac stared at the closed window into the Parisian night, while Grantaire picked up his mug from the floor and downed his drink. Neither dared or desired to say anything else.

* * *

Eponine opened one eye as she lay on her bed, pretending to be asleep. She watched as the dim light from under the door became extinguished, and listened to her father's mumbling as he trod heavily on the steps to his bedroom, undoubtedly even more drunk than before. While it had been her father's drunkenness that had caused the unfortunate incident of which Eponine was a part of just hours ago, it would help with what she planned to do as soon as he hit the hay.

Slowly, she touched her cheek and winced as the familiar feeling of being stung returned for a split second. Her pain, however, paled in comparison to the horrific sight that she had been subjected to before; her little brother, sweet and innocent, being brutally beaten and nearly murdered by the person who unbelievably played a part in their conception.

Her heart sank as she worried for Gavroche, who was likely to be sobbing sadly in the snow outside the house waiting for his parents to change their mind. She felt even more anxious as she thought about his injuries. Never before had she seen him so broken and damaged.

That night had, unfortunately, not been the first of the beatings.

For years, Eponine and her siblings had been subjected to her father's heavy hand and his outbursts of rage, which worsened every time he picked up a bottle of spirits. Thankfully, Eponine and her sister had been shielded by the presence of their mother who, despite being equivalently scheming and nasty to others as her husband, loved her daughters dearly. The birth of Gavroche had ultimately turned out to be the monkey wrench in their relatively survivable home dynamic.

Madame Thenardier had grudgingly accepted the presence of the little boy in their family, but had accompanied her care giving with unnecessarily harsh punishments, errands which exhausted a boy far too young to be doing manual labor and smaller portions of food compared to what was offered to her two daughters. Eponine couldn't count the innumerous times she had snuck an extra helping of potato or chicken onto her brother's plate when her mother's head was turned after feeling bad about his meager portions.

Ironically, it was this mistreatment that brought sister and brother closer together. Azelma preferred to wander around on her own, but Gavroche and Eponine were practically inseparable despite their significant difference in age. Eponine had been the person that Gavroche had run to whenever the beatings got too painful, or when the nightmares that plagued his sleep got too scary to handle alone. While Gavroche found a soul who actually cared for his wellbeing, Eponine found a living bundle of energy and joy that was able to fully unleash itself, unrestrained, when their parents weren't around. It was this sibling solidarity that had kept the boy sane even through the many years of parent-inflicted hardship.

Eponine remembered a significant event from a year ago where Gavroche had broken down in the middle of a violent spanking, rolled off his mother's lap and run sobbingly behind Eponine. For the first time in her life, Eponine properly stood up for her brother and held onto him protectively behind her back, yelling at her mother and scaring the life out Azelma, who had been also in the kitchen. Thankfully, Madame Thenardier had been so stunned by the backlash from her daughter that she let the matter slide. Gavroche had been grateful, and Eponine had been treated to a warm hug and an additional, particularly warm pillow that accompanied her to bed that night.

Eponine felt an unconscious tear running down her cheek as she looked at the empty cot in the room, illuminated by moonlight. Wiping it off her face and telling herself to be strong, Eponine listened out one more time for sounds from the room above hers and heard nothing.

Her parents were asleep.

Allowing her feet to drop onto the wooden floor, Eponine snatched up her brother's blanket from its cot and slowly made her way out of the room, taking care not to wake her sleeping sister. Sneaking through the unlit kitchen was a harrowing task as she tried her best to avoid bumping into anything.

If her father heard anything and woke up, he would give her hell.

Finally reaching the front door, Eponine held her breath as she pushed it open, only to be hit by a wind so strong that it nearly blew her off her feet. Her teeth already chattering at the biting cold, Eponine wrapped her shawl tighter against herself as she walked out and shut the door as gently as she could.

The snow was almost one foot deep.

Heart pounding heavily in her chest, Eponine whispered out into the night.

"Gavroche?"

No response.

A sight caught her eye. On the ground in front of her, at the spot where Eponine had last seen her father tossing her little brother out into the cold was a faint pink, nearly invisible under the fresh snow that had fallen. Now fearing the worst, Eponine squatted down and dug her hand into the snow as deep as she could, only to touch the hard ground underneath the white blanket. Another look around the area yielded no sight of her brother. Only then did Eponine realize that the faint pink had only been found in that single spot. There were no trails of blood leading away from the house.

Eponine could reach only one conclusion. The night was dark and the streets were full of marauders, thieves and kidnappers, people who her parents had warned her with to stop her from leaving the house in the middle of the night. She knew these people existed, but never before had she expected that one of her family would be placed in such a situation.

Fighting the urge to cry, Eponine struggled back to the front steps of the house and sat.

_No, no, no, no…_

Her brother had been taken away by the darkness of the night and the dangers of Paris.

Finally unable to control the urge to cry, Eponine shoved her face into her hands and wept for her little brother.

* * *

**Author's Note – **There we go. I had to explore the sibling relationship paradiagm at some point, so I thought this would be a good time to do so (let's give the other students time to actually get what they need, yes?).

Reviews appreciated and desired.


	4. Awake

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This - Chapter 4**

The sunlight that shone into the dark room was piercing and hot. Frowning as he tried to turn his head to ward off the daylight, Gavroche then realized dazedly that he couldn't move his head properly. Acknowledging that it was probably time to wake up and face his perpetually angry parents again, Gavroche slowly opened his eyes.

It took him around twenty seconds to realize that he wasn't in his own room, and ten more for the painful memory of the night to come crashing back into him.

Confused as to why he was on an unfamiliar bed, Gavroche tried to move his arms, to no avail. Only then did he realize that his limbs felt heavier than before, an observation that defied explanation, especially since he couldn't even move his head to look at them properly. Determined to properly sit up, Gavroche clenched his teeth together as he used the bed as a trampoline, gradually building up energy as he slowly bounced centimeters off the mattress. In a quick burst, Gavroche forced himself into an upright position, and screamed.

"Ahhhh!"

The pain that seemed to rip its way through his spine was jarring and sharp. Gavroche's scream gradually dissipated into tiny winces of agony as sweat started to emerge on his skin from the seemingly minute effort. Panting heavily, Gavroche felt more tears coming to his eyes and stubbornly forced them back in. He had already cried far too much the day before.

From outside the room came the sound of rapid footsteps that caught Gavroche's attention. Now afraid at the unknown predicament that he had found himself in, Gavroche's eyes were glued to the open doorway, praying that the person who entered would be someone he recognized. Anticipating the appearance of his sisters or his parents, Gavroche didn't expect to see what he did; an unfamiliar man in his early twenties, dressed in a brown jacket and black pants, sticking his head into the room and staring into his eyes.

Gavroche didn't even have time to say anything before the man spoke first, grinning slightly as he did.

"Hello. You're finally up."

When the little boy sitting up on the bed did nothing but stare blankly back at him with wide eyes, Courfeyrac turned his head back out of the room and shouted loudly.

"Oi! Joly! He's awake!"

More rapid footsteps followed, and Gavroche's apprehension grew sevenfold as another man, supposedly named Joly, walked calmly into the room, twiddling a tiny sharp blade between his fingers absent-mindedly, as though he were ready to dice him up into tiny pieces. Spotting the horrified look on Gavroche's face and following his field of vision down to the scalpel in his hand, Joly winced and thrust the blade at Courfeyrac, who quickly grabbed it and left to put it away.

Grinning sheepishly, Joly approached the bed slowly, not wanting to scare Gavroche any further.

"Sorry about that, I was working on something in the living room and forgot I had it. How are you feeling?"

Struggling to find his tongue, Gavroche tried to speak, and was appalled as nothing came out of his mouth but strained gasps. With an understanding look on his face, Joly walked to the side of the bed and picked up a glass of water before setting himself down on the bed next to him.

"Your throat will probably be a little dry, after all you've been asleep for around three days."

Gavroche's jaw fell.

"I had to administer liquids to you intravenously, it's this new technique that the Scots found a few years back to inject liquids directly into a vein. I've never tried it on an actual person before you, but I think it worked out okay."

Gavroche didn't understand half of the words that the man just said, but seemed to accept the fact that he was here to help and not to harm him as he willingly allowed Joly to tip the glass of water into his mouth. Refreshed by the intense cool that flooded his dry throat, Gavroche almost felt upset when Joly removed the glass and placed it back onto the table. Clearing his throat, Gavroche tentatively gave a small cough before speaking his first words in three days.

"Where…where am I? And who are you?"

As though already expecting the questions, Joly smiled as he took a proper seat next to the bed and spoke.

"You're in a guesthouse above the café that my friends and I like to visit. My name is Joly," Joly smiled as he gave a theatrical bow in an attempt to get Gavroche to smile, succeeding somewhat as the boy giggled quietly. "And I'm a medical student at that university near the town center. There are three other friends of mine who brought you up here, but they have classes at the moment."

Gavroche slowly nodded, or tried to nod, his head as he took in all the information presented to him.

"I'll introduce them to you when they pop by later, but the other guy who you just saw is Courfeyrac. He studies law, and…oh!" Joly turned his head as he noticed Courfeyrac looking into the room. "Come in, Courfeyrac, we were just talking about you."

As soon as Gavroche took in the man's full form, he was instantly filled with a feeling of reassurance. The man's presence seemed to flood the room as he took heavy steps to the other empty chair and placed a small bowl of what smelled like pork broth on the table before sitting down, grinning gently at Gavroche, who returned his smile shyly.

"As I was saying, Courfeyrac here studies law, and he was the hero who found you and brought you to us."

Courfeyrac waved his hand dismissively.

"There's no need to make me sound so heroic, Joly. Any of us would have done it if we had been there. Besides, you were the only one capable of patching him up in the first place, I'd say you were more of a hero than I was."

Gavroche's heart seemed to rise four inches as he looked to and fro between the two men, who were now bickering as to, of all things, who between the two should receive more of the credit for saving his life. Blushing slightly at the attention, a foreign emotion seemed to emerge in Gavroche's chest, a feeling of warmth that he had not experienced in so many years living within his family's household. However, at his reminder of the presence, or lack thereof, of his family in his life, the feeling vanished as quickly as it came, a dull sadness replacing it. Biting his lip as he willed himself to not think about his sisters and how much he missed them, Gavroche cursed inwardly as he felt his eyes start to water. How embarrassing would it be to greet the people who saved him with tears!

Notice the sudden change in Gavroche's demeanor, Joly leapt to his feet and strode closer to the bed.

"Does it hurt anywhere, Gavroche?"

Gavroche breathed an inward sigh of relief as he realized that the doctor had mistaken his morose expression for pain, and nodded his head, allowing the doctor to hastily recheck all his bandages and to expertly shift him into a more comfortable position without causing him any distress. What Gavroche didn't notice, however, was the knowing expression that Courfeyrac had worn for a second upon noticing Gavroche's watery eyes.

A memory of a conversation that Courfeyrac had days ago came flashing back into his memory.

_As Grantaire and Courfeyrac stepped out of the room to allow Joly to administer Gavroche's fluids, Grantaire gently shut the door and looked around the room. After ensuring that no one else was listening in, he turned back to Courfeyrac, who was looking abnormally upset. He then sighed._

"_Courfeyrac, about what just happened in there…"_

_Courfeyrac looked up from the floor and into Grantaire's eyes._

"_I think its best that we don't say anything to the others."_

_Courfeyrac's expression changed from miserable to angry in a split second upon hearing Grantaire's words._

"_Are you kidding?! You heard what Gavroche was mumbling, he had obviously been mistreated, and by his own parents, no less! We need to-"_

"_Shut the…lower down your voice, dammit!" Grantaire fiercedly whispered at Courfeyrac as he glared towards the closed-door. After a few seconds, he turned back to Courfeyrac and spoke with a more gentle tone of voice._

"_I know what you mean when you say you want to tell the rest of them, but we need to take into account that the kid might not want us to. That was a dream, after all. We might be jumping to conclusions here."_

_Courfeyrac crossed his arms and turned away._

"_I say we look after him till he's alright, and when he feels ready enough to tell us exactly what happened, we listen. That means no forcing things out of him either. The last thing we need to do is to let the kid feel intimidated around the people who are looking after him. Do you understand me?"_

_Silently acknowledging the logic in Grantaire's argument, Courfeyrac reluctantly turned back to his friend and nodded his head._

"_Fine."_

Gavroche, who spoke out to the two students in a timid but clear voice, then abruptly awaked Courfeyrac from his recollections.

"Messieurs, I…thank you for all you have done for me, but I don't have any money to pay you. Also, I need to go and find my…"

Gavroche almost said "family", but then recalled that he had been thrown out of the Thenardier household. Before he could recollect any other bad memories of the nights before, Courfeyrac, who had stood up from his seat determinedly, interrupted him.

"You are in no condition to move, Gavroche. It would be best if you stayed here and let us look after you until you've fully recovered. Isn't that right, Joly?"

Joly turned to stare at Courfeyrac, not expecting the question to be directed towards him.

"Well, actually it would be up to Gavroche, I mean after all if-" At the fierce look that Courfeyrac threw him, Joly quickly changed his tune. "I mean, yes. Yes, Gavroche. You're badly injured, and as someone who actually practices medicine I would feel most comfortable if I ensured your recovery with my own hands and eyes."

Gavroche tried to force a disappointed expression onto his face as he cheered inwardly. At the very least, he would be able to stay in a comfortable place for the next few weeks before he had to go out onto the streets by himself. The university students seemed friendly enough company.

"Also…" Joly beamed as he folded his arms. "What makes you think we want to be paid for this? We did all of this out of our own will, you didn't ask us to do it."

"But…but…" Gavroche anxiously looked at Courfeyrac, then back to Joly. "These…these bandages, they couldn't have been cheap…"

At this comment, Joly smirked.

"I got all these from the hospital, didn't cost me a thing. As long as no one tells the supply administrator anything, no one will know." Joly then raised a finger to his mouth and jokingly shushed Gavroche. "Best not to tell anyone about it, you understand?"

Gavroche couldn't help but grin.

"Yes, Monsieur."

"My name's Joly." The medical student grinned as he picked up his bag from the floor. "Monsieur makes me feel old. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a class to attend. Courfeyrac, Marius should be back soon. Just serve Gavroche some lunch, alright?"

"You got it."

"Thanks."

Joly then waved jubilantly at Gavroche, who greeted with enthusiasm with a bright smile.

"I'll see you both later."

The sounds of his footsteps down the stairs to the café echoed through the guesthouse. Without missing a beat, Courfeyrac picked up the bowl of pork broth and turned to Gavroche, who was now staring expectantly at him.

"So…lunch?"

As his mouth watered at the overwhelming aroma of spices radiating from the bowl of broth, Gavroche then realized that he had never smelt anything so incredibly delicious in his entire life.

* * *

Waving to Joly, who had just stepped out of the café, Marius picked up his drink, well deserved after a hard day of classes at the university, and gulped it slowly. Looking after the boy just one floor above him had been difficult for him especially, due to most of his classes lasting throughout weekdays from mornings to the early afternoons, but he looked forward to it all the same. Looking after the boy named Gavroche had been strangely satisfying despite his seemingly perpetual unconsciousness.

Just as he finished his drink, he caught a sight of somebody who he hadn't seen in far too long a time. Waving enthusiastically to catch her attention, Marius hollered out into the street.

"EPONINE! OVER HERE!"

As Eponine turned around to face him, Marius immediately realized that something was amiss. The girl, usually excited to see him, was now looking alarmingly downtrodden, as shown by her slumped shoulders and depressed demeanor. Standing up and slowly approaching her himself, he then spotted her bloodshot eyes.

"Eponine?"

Eponine tried her best to gather herself.

"M…Marius! Hi, it's been a while."

"That's right, I haven't seen you in so long. I see you're delivering groceries for Monsieur Laffont down at the grocers."

"Yes! Just a few more houses to go. Alright, Marius, I'll…I'll see you later."

Marius watched as Eponine picked up her bags of vegetables and slowly started to walk away. Now absolutely convinced that something was wrong, judging by how she had ended their conversation so quickly, Marius walked towards her yet again.

"Eponine…are you sure everything's alright?"

"What? Oh, everything's fine, Marius. Thanks for asking."

Eponine now looked incredibly distraught despite her efforts at not appearing so. Holding both her hands in his own, Marius then looked deep into her eyes.

"Eponine, if there's something wrong, you could tell me. You know that, right?"

Having her long-time crush touch her hands, along with her grief at losing her younger brother just days ago, was cumulatively far too much for Eponine for handle. With a strangled gasp, Eponine dropped her bags of groceries and threw herself at Marius, sobbing sadly on his shoulder. A little taken aback by her outburst, Marius found his senses and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

It was several minutes before they broke apart. Still worried, Marius decided to probe into Eponine's situation.

"Eponine, do you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

Deciding that there was no harm in telling her friend about her family problems, Eponine wiped her eyes with her sleeve and confided in Marius.

"It's…it's my little brother. I know I've never talked with you about him, but he and I have always been very close. A few days ago, my dad got really drunk and…beat him up really badly."

Alarm bells starting ringing in Marius' head. He stayed quiet, deciding to allow Eponine to finish her story.

"After that he tossed him out into the snow, telling him not to come back. I went out to check on him after my parents had fallen asleep, and…" Eponine paused as fresh tears started to well in her eyes. "Oh, Marius…"

Marius gripped onto Eponine's shoulders to calm her down.

"What?"

"He…he was gone! I think he's been taken away. Why, Marius, why?! What did my brother do to deserve such a thing?!" Eponine was at this point hysterical with grief, and Marius had to hug her closely to himself in order to stop her from lashing out at passer-bys, who were staring at her with wary eyes. "God, Marius, I just want Gavroche back. I JUST WANT GAVROCHE BACK!"

Heart now pounding fiercely in his ears, Marius froze as he contemplated Eponine's words. A young boy, injured badly, thrown out into the snow, with the name _Gavroche_…

"Goodness…"

Excitedly separating himself from Eponine, who looked up in surprised at his sudden action, Marius bent down and picked up Eponine's grocery bags with his hand, and draped his free arm over Eponine's shoulders.

"Eponine, your brother is fine."

Eponine's eyes were now as large as dinner plates.

"Wait…what?!"

Grinning elatedly, Marius then guided his friend towards the café, already anticipating Eponine's expression when she saw what he and the other students had kept upstairs for the past few days.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet…"

* * *

**Author's Note** – Whew! Long chapter, this one. Little-miss-laughs-alot asked about the Marius and Eponine meeting each other plot device, and I actually had made considerations about it before. I just had to find a way and time to interlink the two plots together, and ultimately decided that early in the story would be most realistic, as Marius would only be able to meet up with Eponine so many times before he realized that Gavroche was her brother, even if she never talked about him to him.

Reviews desired and appreciated. Thanks for the hoard of reviews last chapter, ladies and gentlemen. I'm hoping this chapter will see an equivalently welcome reception. :)


	5. Siblings

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 5**

Gavroche and Courfeyrac both jumped as the loud sound of a door being flung open echoed throughout the guesthouse, the latter nearly dropping the entire bowl of hot broth onto the boy sitting on the bed if it weren't for his quick reflexes. Swearing under his breath, but not loudly enough for Gavroche to hear, Courfeyrac set the bowl down onto the table and walked apprehensively towards the closed bedroom door.

Gavroche followed his footsteps with anxious eyes. His heart started to thump violently as he speculated the identity of the intruder, drawing the blanket up closer to his chin as he did. When his brain got round to the possibility that the intruder might be one of his father's henchmen hired to finish him off, or perhaps even his father himself, he whimpered and shuddered involuntarily, recalling the broken beer bottles and furniture that caused him insurmountable pain.

The bedroom door then flew open, nearing knocking over Courfeyrac, who was standing in front of it. Gavroche instinctively closed his eyes, not wanting to see his father's manic eyes or his empty beer bottles again. All he heard was heavy breathing, then a voice that sounded both alarmed and relieved at the same time.

"Gavroche…Gavroche!"

The voice sounded like his older sister's, but Gavroche was still suspended in disbelief. Before Gavroche could even open his eyes, he felt two careful arms thrown around his torso and a head on his shoulders, the arms gently squeezing him as the person tried to convey her affection without hurting him further. Gavroche then slowly opened his eyelids, only to see Eponine in front of him, hugging him as only an older sister could.

"Eponine!"

Gavroche couldn't move his right arm to return his sister's sentiment, but he settled with nuzzling his face onto Eponine's own and giving her a one-handed hug with his uninjured left arm. Courfeyrac stared at the scene in front of him in confusion, turning around as he heard footsteps and watching Marius enter the room, having finally caught up with the girl who had dashed up the stairs at lightning speed herself after he had explained to her what had conspired over the past three days. Courfeyrac pointed at the two in the embrace, and looked quizzically at Marius.

"Er…what's going on?"

Marius grinned back at him.

"Short story, they're siblings. Long story…I'll tell you later."

Eponine then withdrew from the embrace sharply and gave Gavroche a visual pat down with her eyes, her expression changing from relieved to appalled in a matter of seconds. Ignoring her brother's sheepish expression at being eyeballed by his sister and walking around to the other side of the bed to inspect his injuries further, Eponine's voice shook as she analyzed the damage.

"Mon Dieu…papa really did a number on you, Gavroche."

"It doesn't hurt that bad anymore, Eponine."

"Don't lie to me, Gav." Eponine crossed her arms and shook her head at Gavroche's attempt to look brave, chastising him. "You're in terrible shape, that night was the worse I've ever seen. There's no need for you to act so courageous all the time, Gavroche. You're allowed to show pain, no one will look down on you."

Gavroche remained silent as he stared downwards at the mattress. Fiddling gently with the blanket, he mumbled.

"I don't want to be weak."

Softening at Gavroche's words, Eponine sat down on the bed and placed her hands on the sides of Gavroche's face, cautiously turning him to face her directly. Staring deep into his eyes, she spoke with resolution.

"You aren't weak."

Gavroche then scoffed quietly, obviously convinced otherwise.

"I'm never good enough, Eponine. Je suis...incompétent. That's why papa and maman are always angry."

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow at Gavroche's response. Apparently the young boy that he had rescued had an inferiority complex. He then felt Marius' hand on his shoulder, and saw Marius beckoning towards the living room of the guesthouse with his head. Nodding in response, he followed Marius out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Just to give them some privacy."

"Understood."

"Look, Courfeyrac," Marius held up his hands. "I know what's happening now might seem a little confusing, but-"

"It's fine, Marius." Courfeyrac decided that since Eponine had probably informed Marius of the situation, there was not much point in hiding what he had heard. "I know what's going on. Little Gavroche got into trouble with his parents, got beaten up, and thrown out of the house."

"Wait…what?! How did…" Courfeyrac stared back at Marius, amused, as his usually dapper friend spluttered in disbelief. "How did you know that? Do you have some strange ability to hear through walls that I don't know about?"

"What? No, I…actually, let's say I do." Courfeyrac smirked mischievously as Marius folded his arms, evidently not amused. "I used my abilities to spy on you two when you were talking. Be warned, I think the government is suspicious, so I would appreciate it if…ow!"

Marius, frustrated, gave Courfeyrac a hard smack on his arm, to which the latter responded by pouting childishly.

"That was uncalled for."

"No, trust me. It was _totally_ called for. Now, how did you know about Gavroche's situation before I told you anything?"

Courfeyrac then proceeded to describe his and Grantaire's experience looking after Gavroche when he had been unconscious, and the unsettling revelation that his nightmare had disclosed to them. Marius placed his hands in his jacket pockets and leant against a wall as he listened to Courfeyrac's tale quietly. When he was finished, Marius looked Courfeyrac in the eye and gave a sigh.

"Well, shit."

"You said it."

"Well, at least we know two things now. One," Marius ticked off his first revelation with his index finger. "Gavroche isn't just some street urchin, he has a sister, who thankfully I'm pretty good friends with."

"A little more than that, she hopes." Courfeyrac coughed out his next sentence, which caused Marius to look up, distracted from his thoughts.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing, go on."

Courfeyrac shook his head inwardly. It was glaringly obvious to the other students that the girl who did odd jobs for supplementing her family's income was madly in love with Marius. The subject of her dreams, unfortunately, was the only student completely oblivious to any of her affections.

"Two," Marius ticked off with another finger. "We know who did…that to him."

At Marius' comment, Courfeyrac's expression darkened considerably.

"Monsieur Thenardier."

"Précisément, Courfeyrac. He is infamous as a cheat and a sneak around these parts, but I would've never made him out to be abusive to his own child. What do you think, should we do anything?"

Coufeyrac exhaled heavily as he sat down onto one of the few chairs present in the room. What Grantaire had talked to him about was still fresh in his memory, but they had never reached this subject's territory in their conversation. Would Grantaire's idea of letting Gavroche make the necessary decisions still apply in this case?

"I have no clue, Marius. Perhaps we should discuss the matter with Enjolras, Joly and Grantaire when they get back."

Accepting his proposition, Marius nodded his head and settled into the chair next to him. There was an air of unease as they waited for the siblings silently.

* * *

Gavroche sat on the bed, unable to move freely by himself, watching appalled as his sister sank into a seat and buried her face in her hands, seemingly overwhelmed with emotion. Gavroche hardly ever saw his sister cry, she was a constant pillar of strength and determination to him, and it stunned him so see her so upset.

"Don't cry, Eponine!"

Eponine looked up at the sound of her brother's plea and chuckled quietly to herself, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and staring affectionately at the brother that she, just minutes ago, had been convinced would never return to her side. It seemed nothing short of a miracle by God's grace that he was staring back at her. Not completely well, but still very much alive.

Gavroche started to feel uncomfortable at Eponine's persistent staring and subdued facial expression.

"Eponine…you're freaking me out. Never mind your brother, are _you _feeling okay?"

Eponine's expression switched instantly from subdued to affronted. Bending over the bed, she gave her little brother a gentle cuff on the head, not enough to properly hurt him but enough to allow her to reassert her dominance. Gavroche winced at the familiar playful gesture that he had received many times on Eponine's part.

"Ow…that hurt, Eponine!"

Mustering up his best puppy dog face, Gavroche stared at his sister with large watery eyes and a pout that would melt the hearts of any female, only for Eponine to smirk amusedly at him.

"You know that doesn't work on me, Gavroche. I'm already wise to your tricks, as useful as they might be for other purposes."

"Damn."

"Don't swear, it's unbecoming of a child."

"Sorry…_maman_."

"Why you little…"

Instead of cuffing him on the head again, Eponine decided to go for her favorite punishment for her mischievous little brother. Dropping her arms to his sides, and taking pleasure in the fact that he was restrained and in no position to resist, Eponine extended her fingers and started wiggling them over his abdomen, sending Gavroche in merry peals of laughter.

"No…no! HAHAHA STOP, EPONIHAHAHAHA!"

With no intention of stopping, Eponine grinned as she took in her brother's youthful energy that she was always so enthusiastic to see unleashed. It yielded to her a pleasure that completely satisfied her.

In the midst of the tickling, Gavroche suddenly felt a sharp pain radiating from his torso, one that caused him to suddenly flinch and attempt to recoil from Eponine's hands with more gusto than before, gasping for air as he did so. Sensing that she might have accidentally hurt him, Eponine immediately withdrew her hands and placed them on Gavroche's shoulders.

"Mon Dieu…did I hurt you?"

Blinking back tears, Gavroche shook his head as best as he could.

"No, Eponine. I just overstrained myself."

Cursing herself inwardly for taking fun too far out of hand, Eponine apologized to Gavroche and gently picked him up, placing him in a more comfortable position on the bed. Spotting the bowl of broth on the table that she assumed Courfeyrac had given to Gavroche before she had barged into the room, she decidedly took up that mantle, feeding him with small spoonfuls of the broth, which admittedly smelt more delicious than anything she could have ever cooked. Gavroche, by now positively famished after days without food, responded to the incoming spoonfuls of broth with vigor, behaving himself as he swallowed every spoonful without fuss. As he ate, Eponine found herself filling up the silence with talking of her own.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Gavroche. Don't worry about the guys, they can definitely be trusted. I'm actually relieved that they managed to look after you; I don't think you'll find more trustworthy people in all of Paris. Marius told me you just woke up, so I'm not sure if you know all of them yet-"

"Marius?" Gavroche paused as he tried to recall the name. "Haven't you told me about him before?"

"Yeah, he's the student who's always at the café. He brought me up here just now."

Gavroche then snickered.

"He's the one you love, right?"

"I don't…shush! Not so loud!" Eponine hastily looked at the closed door. "Yes, yes, he's the guy I told you about. Now drop it!"

Gavroche's grin now matched a Cheshire cat's.

"Okay Eponine."

Trying to force down the blood that had rushed to her face via mental control alone, Eponine brushed past the moment and continued speaking.

"I don't know what we're going to do, Gavroche. Do you want to come back?"

Gavroche swallowed the lump in his throat and looked down at the bandages gracing his torso.

"I don't know, Eponine. Papa and maman don't want me in the house anymore. I miss you and Azelma, but I…I don't want to be beaten by papa anymore."

The innocence in Gavroche's voice upon saying those words broke Eponine's heart. Suddenly feeling very affectionate towards her mistreated baby brother, Eponine placed the bowl back onto the table and embraced him yet again, this time with even more care than before.

"Don't worry, Gavroche." Eponine spoke softly into Gavroche's ear as she ran her fingers through his hair. "We'll decide what to do after you're better. Okay?"

"Okay, sis."

"Good."

Ruffling his hair affectionately and pecking him lightly on the cheek, Eponine stood up and walked towards the bags of groceries that had been left near the door by Marius. Bending over to pick them up, Eponine turned and looked at her little brother.

"I need to deliver these things to Monsieur Laffont, or else he'll chew me out for being late. Will you be okay with the guys looking after you?"

"I'll be okay, Eponine, since they're your friends. Will you come back to see me?"

There was great anxiousness in Gavroche's tone as he asked the question.

"Of course I will, mon frère."

The smile that appeared on Gavroche's face could have brightened all the streets of Paris.

* * *

**Author's Note** – Let me just say this, I _hate_ writing long dialogues as I find them so difficult to juggle alongside my desire for detail. Every minute action a character makes, I feel the need to address it, which makes writing dialogues hell. It's inevitable, unfortunately, which explains my slightly cumbersome interaction between the two siblings for this chapter. Hopefully I still managed to pull it off effectively, so reviews and suggestions on that area specifically would be very greatly appreciated.

And I realize I've gone two chapters without a cliffhanger! I understand that most of you probably don't like cliffies, but I do. Incorporate them in your writing sporadically, it's a great way to increase tension and get readers to come back. I think. Ah, oh well.

Review please.


	6. Teachers

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 6**

Feeling stifled by the blanket that was draped over his body despite the scorching hot sun that was pouring into the bedroom, Gavroche gave a frustrated huff and kicked it off with his uninjured leg.

It had been five days since he had awakened, eight since he had been forcibly removed from the Thenardier household. Gavroche, for one, was incredibly grateful for the magnanimity of the five university students who had been looking after him, completely aware of the fact that they were not obliged to rescue and shelter him in the first place. He had slowly gotten to know the five, treating them with utmost respect despite their insistence on him not greeting them with formalities, but he did so all the same. It only seemed like the right thing to do, especially considering how they were so much older, and _larger_ than him.

He had taken a liking to Courfeyrac immediately, always enjoying his company and his tendency to fuss over his wellbeing. He was one of the few people who had an instinctively comfortable air around them, and was the only person willing to spend hours on end just entertaining Gavroche with jokes and stories, which the boy thoroughly enjoyed. Joly, of course, was another kindred spirit, the only chance he had of making a full recovery. It seemed that the student was a perfect enough doctor already despite his status as a student, able to answer all of Eponine's nervous queries about Gavroche's condition and treating Gavroche in a manner that ensured as little discomfort as possible.

Grantaire was the most eccentric of the group, frequently visiting him while slightly drunk and speaking to Gavroche about subject matter that made the boy giggle and his cheeks turn pink, as he took pleasure in "corrupting" another innocent younger member of Parisian society. Gavroche appreciated Grantaire's whimsicality all the same, never would an adult speak to a child like him about topics such as these! Gavroche figured that he would be wise to take in as many of the "lessons" as he could.

Marius was liked as well, but had been the one subject to Gavroche's closest scrutiny, the boy frequently asking him personal questions in a childishly sharp tone of voice that left the student bewildered at the seeming interrogations. It was Gavroche's responsibility that his sister was "fancyin' after a worthy man", after all. Gavroche's subsequent admission of his exploits to his sister during one of her daily visits resulted in another painful cuff to the head and a chastising session, but Gavroche took pleasure in knowing that he was looking after his older sister despite her reluctance to admit that fact.

Enjolras was the hardest nut to crack, or so it seemed. While the other students had warmed to Gavroche's inquisitive nature and talkativeness instantly, Enjolras had frequently spaced out and stared out of the open window in the midst of conversations, and seemed to dislike time-wasting, always carrying around a few sheets of crumpled paper that he scribbled onto whenever he could. Gavroche was admittedly a little intimidated by Enjolras' aloof nature and stern disposition, but appreciated the few times he had stayed in the bedroom to keep him company, frequently working on a dissertation in silence as Gavroche closed his eyes and enjoyed the sound of pencil scratching mildly onto paper.

All the things considered, there was one thing Gavroche knew for certain as he lay on that same bed for the eighth day in a row.

He was bored.

Joly's instructions to remain in bed to avoid injuring himself further was sound advice, but wasn't easy to take, especially for a young child who now had the overwhelming urge to tear off his stuffy bandages and run around in the streets outside. It also certainly didn't help that he was partially disabled, unable to hold anything that needed both hands to work with, such as the puzzle box from the market that Courfeyrac had kindly gotten for him. Pouting at the unfinished trinket on the bedside table next to him, Gavroche raised his good leg and let it fall to the bed via gravity, listening to the sound of the bed creaking and momentarily curbing his boredom by building up momentum in an upward direction.

He forgot about the presence of another person in the guesthouse.

"What's going on here?"

Heart seizing up a little at the sound of the familiar voice, Gavroche abruptly stopped his bouncing and looked at the doorway with mortified eyes. He stuttered unconsciously as he tried to make out his words.

"M…monsieur Enjolras! Je…je suis désolé, I didn't…I didn't mean to disturb you!"

Enjolras was, in Gavroche's defense, a slightly terrifying sight. Black circles around his eyes after days of endless work, messy hair and a filthy red jacket, he looked more like a crazed scientist than a university student. In his hands, as usual, was a stack of papers with fresh scribbles. Clearly, he had been working on something when he had been interrupted.

"Is something wrong?"

Enjolras made cautious steps into the room. He had sensed days before that Gavroche wasn't yet completely comfortable with his presence at this point, and trod around the boy with caution. Gavroche merely stared back at him with timid eyes, praying that he wouldn't be scolded.

"I was a little bored, monsieur, so I…"

"…decided to…bounce…on the bed?"

Gavroche looked down, ashamed and embarrassed at how ridiculous the notion sounded coming from Enjolras' mouth.

"Yes, monsieur."

_Of course he's bored_, thought Enjolras to himself as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair. As far as he knew, kids liked to be out playing and running around, not stuck in a room with no company and nothing to do. Enjolras, unfortunately, had never been good with children. Racking his brain for some ideas on how to entertain the gamin, an idea sprung to his head.

"Hey, Gavroche, what do you know about French history?"

Gavroche stared quizzically back at Enjolras, shaking his head, which thankfully had more mobility now that Joly had deemed his neck stable enough to go without a neck brace.

"I've never been to school, monsieur Enjolras. I don't know anything about history."

"Well, every Frenchman needs to learn about our country's history and government, so here's an idea." Enjolras plopped himself down onto the seat next to the bed. "I'll tell you a few stories about our country, and maybe teach you a thing or two. Okay?"

Enjolras' willingness to teach him something new, an opportunity that was scarce for a boy who had never even learnt how to read or write, elevated Gavroche's spirits significantly, his expression reflecting that sentiment as he flashed Enjolras his best and brightest smile.

"Oui!"

Enjolras couldn't help but grin.

"Alright, then. Now, a long time ago…"

* * *

Grantaire smirked as he looked at the conflicted expression on Gavroche's face, as the young boy's excitement at learning something new clashed with slight guilt over the tender nature of the subject matter that had just be revealed to him. Grantaire could tell from the boy's face that he was dying to ask more questions, but was still hesitant to do so lest his sister or the other students find out about his venturing into territories completely inappropriate for children.

"Monsieur Grantaire?"

Wiping his alcohol-laden lips with the back of his hand, Grantaire placed his mug back down onto the table and looked up.

"Yes?"

"May I ask…erm…" Gavroche fiddled with the blanket between his fingers as he pondered how to properly phrase his question without sounding rude. "Why are you…willing to teach me about…all that?"

Grantaire, who had gotten very fond of the boy at this point, was wondering when the inquisitive young fellow would ask this question.

"I'm willing to talk about such things…because you'll eventually find out anyway."

"Monsieur?"

"Society is full of taboos…er…rules that must not be broken," Grantaire changed his choice of vocabulary at the perplexed look on Gavroche's face. "Children wonder about these things all the time, which is understandable, because adults always treat these things as something that children must be protected from. Now that…"

Grantaire raised a finger to emphasize his point.

"…is ridiculous to me."

"It is?"

"Yeah. Instead of letting children wonder and find out about these things in their own way through a completely unshielded manner and form, why not educate them about these things and teach them how to treat these matters with respect? I think that's the right way to do things. Now that being said…" Grantaire picked up his mug from the table yet again. "Perhaps it's best if you still do not inform your sister and my friends about what I've been telling you. I don't think they would approve of my…progressive educational methods."

He then winked sneakily at Gavroche, who responded with an enlightened and appreciative grin.

"Oui, monsieur Grantaire!"

"Good."

As he watched the older man sip from his cup, Gavroche couldn't help but stare at Grantaire with slight awe. In front of him sat an adult who was actually willing to share information about things that children like him wondered about for ages. How lucky was he to be in the presence of such a person!

Watching Grantaire sip from the mug, Gavroche's inquisitiveness resurfaced, this time with more confidence after Grantaire's explanation on his willingness to share.

"Erm…monsieur Grantaire, what's that?"

"What, this?" Grantaire used his free hand to point at the cup. "This is beer."

"My papa likes drinking it." Gavroche shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "It makes him more angry."

Pausing mid-sip at Gavroche's subdued tone of voice, Grantaire cursed himself inwardly for his insensitiveness. The boy had been abused by his father. The fact that his father was an alcoholic was not exactly surprising news to him, most abusive parents were in fact alcoholics. So what was he doing, parading around with the same drink that had caused their young charge so much pain?

"Your father isn't a very good drinker, then." Grantaire laughed awkwardly. "People only lose control when they don't know when to stop drinking. Otherwise, a little beer or alcohol is fine."

Eager to wipe off the morose expression that seemed incredibly unbecoming on a boy of eight, Grantaire had an epiphany. A very _naughty_ epiphany, one that would undoubtly cause Joly to ban him from visiting Gavroche for all eternity. If it helped to cheer Gavroche up, however, the risk was likely to be worth it.

Turning around to ensure that the door to the room was tightly shut, Grantaire reached out and thrust the half-full mug at Gavroche, prompting him to take it.

"Try it."

The fear on Gavroche's face was unmistakable. How absolutely criminal would trying alcohol be! The thirst for knowledge bubbling within him, however, was unmistakable.

"Are you sure, monsieur Grantaire?"

"Absolutely. Just a sip, mind you. It's strong."

Hesitantly, Gavroche stuck out his left hand and held onto the mug tightly. Slowly raising it to his lips, Gavroche took in a deep breath before tipping the mug gently upwards, allowing a small stream of the yellowish liquid to enter his mouth.

His eyes then widened.

The taste was overwhelmingly strong, but Gavroche was now enlightened.

Grantaire grinned widely at the sight of Gavroche removing the mug from his lips and wiping his lips contemplatively with his sleeve, taking the first step into the world of adults.

* * *

**Author's Note** – Shorter chapter this time, but I wanted to go past the sentimental and proceed into the slightly comedic. It was then I realized that giving the students (five of them to work with, good grief) another purpose besides just being there to look after Gavroche would be advantageous. Over these few chapters I will explore teacher-student relationships, and gradually I'll build Gavroche's character up into the cheeky and ballsy young boy that we're all familiar with.

Reviews appreciated.


	7. Nightmares

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 7**

"You useless brat!"

Gavroche shrieked as powerful arms grabbed hold of his wrists and suspended him against the wall. Kicking out valiantly to free himself, Gavroche felt another rock-hard fist smashing onto the side of his face and went limp, all the fight going out of him in seconds. The two Thenardier henchmen remained on his sides, holding him up as they blindly watched their boss punish his son.

Gavroche took in a deep breath to calm himself, only for that same breath to be rocketed out of him by a fierce punch to his sternum. Another punch to the stomach sent his world reeling as he felt his dinner, meager portions as usual, rising like burning bile in his throat. Forcing it back down, Gavroche finally felt warm tears flooding down his cheeks, as the pain got too intense to bear. Looking up at the subject of his nightmares, Gavroche whimpered as his father drew back his fist yet again.

"Papa…"

The blow to his face forced him painfully against the wall. A resounding crack rang through the room as his nose broke. Simultaneously, the two henchmen let go of his wrists, causing Gavroche to fall to the floor. As blood streamed down in rivets, Gavroche held both wrists up to his face in an attempt to stench the bleeding, but to no avail. The pain was overwhelming, causing him to wail out despite his determination to not look weak in front of his father.

Looking up, he saw his father pick up a butcher knife, one that his mother had used to carve chickens just hours before, and felt his blood run cold.

"End of the line, _son_."

* * *

The blood-curdling scream that echoed throughout the guesthouse shook Courfeyrac out of his own slumber. Jolting out of his seat, Courfeyrac felt himself topple over. Too disoriented to regain his balance, he fell floorwards, knocking the side of his head painfully against the table. Wincing as he rubbed his forehead and letting loose a string of French expletives, Courfeyrac then remembered the reason for his rude awakening, and leapt to his feet.

Gavroche gasped as the door to his bedroom swung open hastily, and relaxed as he saw Courfeyrac looking worriedly into the room.

"Hey, Gavroche, are you okay?"

Ignoring his pride in a time of vulnerability, Gavroche sobbed as he shook his head, his cheeks already wet with moisture, a physical manifestation of the nightmare. Deprived of parental affection and longing for protection, Gavroche could see nothing through his tears, merely responding in kind as he felt Courfeyrac's arms wrap around him in a tight and comforting embrace. Sobbing now giving way to frenzied bawling, Gavroche couldn't stop himself from letting loose his negative emotions, taunted by the devil who had plagued both his life and his dreams for years on end.

Rubbing Gavroche's back vigorously to soothe him, Courfeyrac frowned, slightly disturbed by the boy's outburst and sudden breakdown. He had had consistent nightmares for days on end, evidenced by sudden yelps in the middle of the night, as informed to Courfeyrac by the other students. This was the first time it had escalated to the point where one of them actually had to intervene.

Gavroche obviously had some severe emotional and physical scars from his experience living in the Thenardier household.

How were they going to fix him?

Shaking his head, Courfeyrac told himself to push that thought out of his head in the meantime. These were things that could be worried about in the morning.

Gradually feeling Gavroche settle down as he succumbed to emotional and mental exhaustion, Courfeyrac wordlessly removed his arms from Gavroche's back and laid the boy back down onto the bed. Wiping his tears dry with his own sleeve, Courfeyrac covered Gavroche up with the blanket. Within seconds, the boy was asleep.

Glancing worriedly back at Gavroche as he walked out of the room, Courfeyrac pulled the chair that he had rested on earlier closer to the bedroom door and settled down onto it, this time taking care to leave the door open lest another nightmare strike that night.

* * *

Gently knocking on the door to the guesthouse, Eponine waited patiently for half a minute before it swung open to the image of a slightly haggard Courfeyrac with a pen between his fingers.

"Oh, hello Eponine. Here to visit Gavroche?"

"Yes, Courfeyrac. You look exhausted, what's wrong?"

"Oh, no big deal." Courfeyrac gestured with his hand to invite Eponine in before shutting the door behind her. "Enjolras and I were just working on a particularly challenging assignment that was issued today. He's been throwing ideas at me, it's all very tiring."

"I see. Hello, Enjolras."

Enjolras merely raised his head slightly and grunted in greeting before burying his head in paper yet again. Already used to seeing this side of the intrepid student, Eponine smiled and shook her head lightly. Courfeyrac crossed his arms and whispered into Eponine's ear.

"Consider yourself lucky, and try not to speak to him. He just chased Grantaire out of the place for placing his glass down onto the table too loudly. Apparently he was 'disturbing the zone of serenity', whatever that is."

"I'll keep that in mind." Eponine grinned as she mentally pictured Grantaire running out of the apartment with Enjolras right on his tail. "Is Gavroche okay?"

"He's doing better, healing better than Joly had previously imagined he would, too." Courfeyrac took the time to describe Gavroche's medical condition as he walked Eponine to the bedroom. "Apparently the fracture in his leg was not as severe as Joly thought it was, he said that Gavroche would be able to get out of bed within the next week or so."

"That's fantastic news."

"Yeah. Marius is in there, doing what with him I don't exactly know."

At the sound of her crush's name, Eponine visibly seized up slightly. The motion did not go unnoticed by Courfeyrac's sharp eyes, but he decided to let the matter slide. Smiling once more at the girl who had an eye on his friend, Courfeyrac walked himself back to the table and settled down next to Enjolras, pen to paper once again.

Placing her head against the bedroom door, Eponine tried to identify what exactly her brother was saying to Marius. After being informed of his antics the day before Eponine was more uptight about her little crush than ever, already telling herself that if she found out that Gavroche had said or disclosed anything to Marius, there would be hell to pay, mostly on her brother's part.

"Je…je…m'ap…pelle. Je m'appelle…Gavroche. There, monsieur Marius, I'm finished!"

"Let me see…that's right, that's how you write and spell je m'appelle. Excellent work, Gavroche!"

"Merci, monsieur Marius!"

Smiling at what the pair was doing behind the door, Eponine knocked lightly on it before opening it, only to have two sets of eyes directed in her direction.

"Eponine! Eponine!" Gavroche beamed excitedly as he waved a piece of paper in the air enthusiastically. "Monsieur Marius is teaching me how to read and write!"

"It's an important skill, I was surprised that he didn't know how to." Marius stood from the bed and smiled at his good friend. "He's a very fast learner though. You've got a very intelligent little brother."

"I think its best not to overinflate his already large head, Marius." Eponine quipped cheekily as she approached Gavroche, who stuck out his tongue at her. Ruffling her little brother's hair affectionately, she looked back at Marius and smiled appreciatively.

"Thanks for teaching him, Marius. My French isn't that good in the first place, so I never could teach him."

"It's no problem. Besides, it's a lot more fun than working with Enjolras and Courfeyrac out there in the living room." Marius gave a mock shudder, which caused Eponine to giggle and Gavroche to smirk knowingly at his sister's reaction. "Enjolras is intelligent and all, but when he gets into his work he scares me a little."

Spotting something he didn't understand in Marius' guide to beginner's French, Gavroche couldn't resist interrupting.

"Monsieur Marius, monsieur Marius," Gavroche tugged on Marius' sleeve with one hand and held onto an open book with another. "What does this word mean?"

As Marius addressed Gavroche's question, Eponine couldn't resist stepping back and taking a look at the picturesque scene in front of her. It seemed that the influence that the students have had on her brother was positive in every possible way. Between Marius' and Enjolras' teaching, Joly's care and Grantaire and Courfeyrac's company, there wasn't a more positive environment for Gavroche to recuperate in.

At this point, Eponine wouldn't blame Gavroche if he directly refused going home to live with his siblings again.

Quietly stepping out of the room and leaving the two to their own devices, Eponine reached the front door of the guesthouse, only to be addressed by the two students working in the living room.

"Eponine? Do you have a minute?"

Eponine turned around, wondering why Courfeyrac wanted to speak to her. She was taken aback when she realized that even Enjolras had abandoned his work for the moment, the papers on the table pushed into a messy pile. Nodding her head in affirmation, Eponine walked towards the two and sat down at the table. Enjolras spoke first, with a tone that was surprisingly official.

"We need to discuss a matter that has to do with Gavroche."

Her attention now perked further at the mention of her brother, Eponine raised an eyebrow.

"What about him?"

"We were wondering if you could…give us more information about what has happened to him." Courfeyrac looked at Eponine with a slightly sympathetic gaze. "We understand that what your father had done a week ago is painful for both him and yourself, but we were hoping you could give the rest of us an insight into why he's having…well…"

"Nightmares." Enjolras frowned as he completed Courfeyrac's sentence. "The five of us have all taken turns staying with him as he slept. There hasn't been a single day where he hadn't woken up in the middle of the night because of a nightmare."

"I haven't tried to ask him about the details yet, as that's a relatively…sensitive area for an outsider to tread upon." An expression of sheepishness appeared on Courfeyrac's face. "You don't have to tell us anything if you don't want to, we're just…concerned for his wellbeing. Over the past week he has grown on all of us a little, you see. Even monsieur Enjolras here." He then cheekily poked Enjolras' cheek with his index finger, only for it to be swatted away by an irritated hand.

Taking in the flood of information from the two students, Eponine wiped her slightly sweaty brow with the back of her hand.

"The nightmares. Of course, I know what you're talking about. He has had them even before last week."

Looking infinitely more worried now, Eponine then uncrossed her legs before re-crossing them again.

"Our father is…not a nice man."

Courfeyrac only resisted the urge to snidely reaffirm her words through his innate politeness. It was common knowledge to nearly everyone living in the area that the Thenardiers were the craftiest cheats in the city. The master of the house was rumored to have a clan of thugs and thieves that extended their reach throughout the nook and crannies of Paris, a rumor that Courfeyrac didn't have any reason to disbelieve. The exception to the stereotype of nasty that was the Thenardier household was Eponine, and now, Gavroche.

"He beat him all the time, usually for absurd reasons. He got drunk very often and took it all out on Gavroche. I tried my best to shield him when I could, but I was able to do very little. My mother is biased towards my sister and myself. She regards Gavroche as…incompétent."

Hearing those words, the sides of Courfeyrac's mouth tightened disapprovingly. Enjolras leant back against his seat's backrest and stared up towards the ceiling.

"Every few nights he would wake up after a nightmare and slide next to me on my bed, where I would find him the next morning. He doesn't like to speak about the nightmares even to myself, but I have no doubt as to their contents."

Nervously tugging at her hair, Eponine then voiced out her concern.

"If he really has been having nightmares every day for the past week…then my father's mistreatment of him and getting thrown out the house must have hurt him more than I thought."

"It's not that surprising, actually." Enjolras spoke absent-mindedly as he continued analyzing the cracks on the ceiling. "Even if he had been punished mercilessly, if this had happened since he was young he would have been conditioned to…tolerate it to a certain extent. I guess being ejected from your household was a large hit on him emotionally, to have that kind of consistency removed from his life would have been especially traumatizing, for someone his age. The nightmares are a manifestation of monsieur Thenardier's physical form, which is now primarily absent from his reality. His mind is making up for your father's absence within his dreams as he sleeps."

Eponine gaped at Enjolras, utterly bewildered.

_What in the…_

Noticing her confusion, Courfeyrac hastened to offer his own simplified explanation.

"What Enjolras is trying to say is, Gavroche has gotten used to the punishments even if they were painful for him. When your father threw him out, he realized that he was alone for the first time. He had gotten so used to the fear and pain that your father reappears in his dreams more than ever."

Eponine's confusion shifted into revelation.

"Ah. I think I understand."

Realizing that his own explanation delved far too much into academics and that Eponine probably didn't understand a word, Enjolras grimaced and looked away from the ceiling. Glancing apologetically at the young woman, he then decided to contribute an important observation to the conversation.

"He needs to rid himself of his fear for his father. As far as I see it, it's the only way to stop the nightmares."

"How is that going to happen?" Eponine sighed, frustrated. "He's absolutely terrified of papa!"

As the three sat at the table and pondered possibilities and implications, none of them realized that the answer to Gavroche's problem was, at that moment, sitting alone in the café, sulking as he sipped from yet another mug of beer, silently cursing Enjolras for asking him to make himself scarce.

* * *

**Author's Note** – This chapter was more boring than the last few, I think, but it was pretty much inevitable, especially considering how I planned for the story to flow. Next chapter is especially important, and in case you didn't get my blindingly obvious partial-cliffy at the end, a certain frequently drunk student probably has something to do with it. Mind you…my idea is relatively esoteric, so not everyone might approve. I'll be looking forward to everyone's reactions to it.

Otherwise, this was another difficult chapter to write. Long dialogues again. Thanks for all the reviews though, they keep me writing. Really appreciate them.

That being said, more reviews!


	8. Sing

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 8**

As a young alcoholic that had been introduced to spirits at too young an age, Grantaire had more than sufficient experience with knowing when to stop before he became too drunk to speak coherently or move without assistance. His tolerance for alcoholic beverages was high compared to his fellow students, though he would usually develop a faint haze in his vision after the fifth mug of beer. It wasn't a big problem for him.

Today's drinks sent him far beyond a faint haze.

The reason for Grantaire's drunkenness would remain unexplained. Perhaps the barmen had accidentally served him stronger liquor that Grantaire just shrugged off or didn't take notice of, or perhaps Grantaire simply forgot how many drinks he had before. The reason was moot in the face of the result.

Grantaire was _hammered_.

Frustrated at their friend's stupidity, Marius, Enjolras and Courfeyrac supported Grantaire as he trod slowly and heavily up the steps into the guesthouse above the café, the closest location they could find for depositing an inebriated companion. Laying him down unceremoniously in one of the living room chairs, Enjolras then knelt down and snapped his fingers loudly in Grantaire's face, causing him to wake from his daze.

"Wha…huh?"

"Oi, Grantaire." Enjolras then shook him by his collar. "There's a mass lecture for all the law students. We need you to stay with Gavroche for the time being. Joly will be here in about half an hour. Could you stay…_alive_ long enough for that?"

"Yessir!"

"Right, whatever." Sighing heavily, Enjolras then signaled towards the door. "Let's go."

Just as the students were stepping out of the guesthouse, Courfeyrac turned his head and shouted at their muddled friend.

"Keep him safe, you hear?"

Smacking his lips together, Grantaire responded to Courfeyrac's question with a goofy grin directed in his direction. Shaking his head in exasperation, Courfeyrac stepped out and closed the door tightly behind him.

Silence.

Not completely aware of his own surroundings, Grantaire then allowed his feet to fall from the table to the floor. Taking a minute to allow for his head to stop spinning, he then took slow, cautious steps, steps that were adequately cautious for a drunken man at least, towards the sole bedroom in the guesthouse.

He wasn't thinking clearly. The bedroom door, however, called out to him like a siren song.

He knew what the others had discussed with Eponine just earlier before, even if he hadn't been present. He had participated in the little discussion between the students earlier in the morning. The problem was clear, and if he guessed correctly, a solution hasn't yet been presented.

He could do it, though.

Yes he could.

It was time to snap little Gavroche out from his daddy phobia.

* * *

"S'il…vous…plait."

Biting down onto his lip as he mumbled syllables to himself contemplatively, Gavroche placed the pencil down onto the bed and took a second to recheck his writing and spelling. Despite his horrible penmanship Gavroche still felt a silver of pride at writing and properly spelling his first words. As it turned out, his sister's secret crush was a fantastic guy. Gavroche had silently given his approval to his sister pursuing Marius the moment the student had offered to teach him to write and read French.

Picking up the book that Marius had left behind with his uninjured arm, Gavroche flipped to a dog-eared page and checked his spelling.

"S'il vous plait…s'il vous plait! Oui!"

Cheering and grinning silently to himself, Gavroche turned to the next page to pick up a new word, when he was interrupted by loud knocking on his bedroom door. Aware that the three students that had kept him company had left for class, Gavroche tilted his head and stared quizzically at the door, wondering if he had imagined the knocking.

The person behind the door then knocked again. Feeling particularly cheery that day, Gavroche chirped out his next word as he looked back down at the book.

"Entrez!"

The door opened slowly. Gavroche looked up and beamed when he saw his visitor.

"Monsieur Grantaire!"

Immediately, he sensed that something was wrong when Grantaire didn't return the friendly greeting, but instead stayed at the doorway, one hand on the door supporting him, and staring not at Gavroche, but at the wall behind him, his eyes zooming in and out of focus. A slight tinge of worry arising in his chest, Gavroche drew in his uninjured leg closer to himself.

"Monsieur Grantaire?"

Seemingly shaken out of his stupor by the sound of his name being said twice, Grantaire shook his head violently to clear it, and turned to Gavroche, grinning widely.

"Bonjour, Gavroche! What're you doing?"

Taken aback by Grantaire's sudden change in temperament, Gavroche couldn't help but stammer out his next words.

"Er…doing some…doing some writing! Monsieur Marius taught me-"

"Ahh, yes, Marius did say he was going to do that."

Grantaire was already slurring his speech at this point, causing his words to come out his mouth as a garbled mess of syllables.

Gavroche then realized the situation that was in front of him. He had seen men in Grantaire's position before, stumbling around and fumbling with words, thanks to alcohol, that funny-tasting yellow liquid that he had tasted days ago. And based on what little he knew of his new friend, Grantaire _loved_ alcohol.

Just like his father.

Grantaire's reaction to it was very different from his father's, though. Gavroche recalled with a regretfully sour tinge the feeling of slaps and punches on his body, and shuddered. Refocusing his attention on the intoxicated student and determining that he was non-violent, Gavroche stared inquisitively at the sight in front of him in silence. He then reached a conclusion.

Men were _silly_ when they were drunk!

Giggling silently to himself, Gavroche watched as Grantaire hobbled over to the chair next to the bed and fell into it sideways, nearly tipping it over entirely. Dragging the chair closer to the bed, Grantaire lost his balance and toppled over, grabbing onto the bedside table with both his hands and pulling it downwards to the floor alongside him, sending its contents toppling over onto the ground.

"Monsieur Grantaire! Are you alright?"

"Wha…?" Grantaire shakily rose to his feet, rubbing the bruise that was rapidly forming on his forehead, and looked towards the now anxious boy sitting on the bed. "Oh…I'm fine. Sorry about that."

Now settling with a surface on which he could sit on without injuring both himself and the furniture, Grantaire sat on the bed, with Gavroche closing his book and sweeping papers to the side to make room. Recalling his reason for practically barging into the boy's room, Grantaire then strained himself as he tried to muster up the mental capability necessary for carrying out the conversation.

Gavroche stared at the expression on Grantaire's face and frowned.

"Do you have a headache, monsieur?"

"No, no…no I don't. Listen, Gavroche." Grantaire then turned his body and sat cross-legged, facing Gavroche, who looked both apprehensive and curious at what Grantaire wanted to say. "I need to speak to you about something that has worried the rest of us."

Gavroche quirked an eyebrow.

"What is it, monsieur?"

Under the influence, Grantaire rejected the potential repercussions of mentioning the content of the discussion he had with the other students to its subject.

"It's about your father."

Hearing his words, Gavroche visibly tensed up and clutched the blanket closer to himself. Swallowing, Grantaire ignored Gavroche's body language and proceeded with what he had intended to say.

"You've been having nightmares, and its worrying us."

"I din't mean to…"

"I know, I know, not your fault. What was I…? Oh yes, your father."

Grantaire continued to rub his forehead as he struggled to find the necessary words.

"I know you don't want to talk about what happened, and honestly I don't want to jump to conclusions either, so I'm gonna just teach you a…coping method, okay?"

When Gavroche merely stared blankly back at him, Grantaire continued speaking.

"When I was a kid, I had problems with my parents as well. I didn't have any siblings, so I was pretty lonely. And when I got lonely, and when my dad hit me, I did stuff behind his back…I started to sing."

Gavroche's eyes widened, but he continued staring silently.

"In fact, there was this little song that I made up when my father got a little too crazy with the stick, if you know what I mean HAHAHAHA!"

Jumping a little at Grantaire's sudden burst of drunken laughter, Gavroche awkwardly wiped off traces of saliva off his face and hugged his leg with his left arm, waiting for Grantaire to end his spontaneous guffawing. Chuckling and snickering at his own joke, Grantaire wiped his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

"What was I talking about? Oh, the song. Yeah, it goes something like this…"

In a loud, booming bass that was horribly off-key, thanks to Grantaire's impaired ability to perceive sound, the student sang, drawing out each syllable inharmoniously as he went.

"LITTLE PEOPLE KNOW,

WHEN LITTLE PEOPLE FIGHT,

WE MIGHT LOOK EASY-PICKINS

BUT WE'VE GOT SOME BITE!"

Abruptly ending the song mid-verse, Grantaire then licked his lips and turned to face Gavroche yet again. This time, however, the boy looked more mortified than before, still remaining silent as he watched Grantaire, flabbergasted.

"I can't remember the rest of it, it was a long time ago…do you like it?"

Still in shock, Gavroche merely nodded his head slowly, his jaw fallen open in stupefaction. Just as Grantaire was about to continue his drunken, woozy jabber, the door to the bedroom swung open again.

"What's going on here?"

Gavroche sat upright immediately, breathing an internal sigh of relief and staring pleadingly at his savior. As he took in Gavroche's beseeching expression and Grantaire's blank scrutiny of the woodcarvings on the table, Joly's expression darkened significantly. Practically seething, Joly trod heavily into the room, placed his arms under Grantaire's armpits, and heaved him to his feet.

"You're DRUNK, GRANTAIRE!"

"Oi, Joly! Hands off!"

Joly cringed at the smell of alcohol on Grantaire's breath. Gavroche, having never seen Joly so angry, recoiled a little. Spotting his young patient's fearful demeanor, Joly guiltily lowered his voice to a fierce whisper.

"You're _drunk_, Grantaire. How _dare_ you bother Gavroche when you're in such a stupor!"

Still completely unaware of his exploits, Grantaire grinned goofily back at his friend.

"Relax, Joly! I was just talking and telling him stuff!"

"I could hear you _screaming_ like a dying animal from the café! You know what? You're _not _allowed in here when you're this drunk."

"Wha-? I'll stay here if I want to!"

"Get _out, _and don't come back till you're _sober!_"

With herculean force, Joly hauled Grantaire out of the room, the latter dragging his feet as the task was completed. Depositing his inebriated friend at the foot of the door, Joly scathingly left his friend, who was by now pouting like a child, a final comment.

"And go clean your teeth, your breath smells to high heaven."

Shutting the door quietly but forcefully behind him, Joly's expression softened considerably as he spotted Gavroche, who had lain back down onto the bed and was now watching him gingerly. Approaching his patient, Joly spoke in a gentler tone.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, Gavroche."

"That's okay, monsieur Joly."

"Did Grantaire say anything…inappropriate to you?"

Recalling Grantaire's many conversations with him and their tender subject matter, Gavroche decided to protect the possibility of future such conversations, which he actually enjoyed, by telling a little lie.

"N…no, monsieur Joly."

"Thank goodness." Extracting some assorted medical equipment from his bag, Joly sat down onto the bed as he prepared to perform a checkup on Gavroche's condition. "I apologize on his behalf. He can get a little crazy when he's drunk. Trust me, you have not seen him at his worst."

"That's okay, monsieur Joly." Gavroche lifted up his own shirt carefully to assist Joly in speeding up his daily checkup. "My papa gets drunk too, but he only gets angry. At least…monsieur Grantaire's _funny_."

Smiling lightly at the small grin on Gavroche's face, Joly replied with a slightly humorous tone as he proceeded with examining Gavroche's torso.

"That he is, Gavroche. That he is."

* * *

It was almost bedtime for the tired young gamin, worn out by Marius' French lessons and the particularly memorable incident from the afternoon. Having been tucked into bed carefully by Joly, whom was the student staying with him that night, and having said good night, Gavroche laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

This was one time of the day that he didn't particularly like.

However, this night was different. Humming quietly under his breath, Gavroche then repeated lyrics that he had heard from a certain drunken friend of his that afternoon.

"Little people know

When little people fight…"

Drawing the blanket closer up over himself, Gavroche smacked his lips together and smiled to himself as he finished the verse.

"We might look easy-pickins

But we've got some bite!"

Chuckling merrily as he recalled monsieur Grantaire's fumbling and silly behavior, Gavroche turned on his side and waited for the sandman to claim him for his own.

* * *

**Author's Note** – Alright everyone, this chapter was a real challenge. There were so many elements to combine that I'm not sure if I did a good enough job out of it. If at some point the writing seems out-of-place, it's supposed to be that way, as I tried to reflect Grantaire's drunkenness in the prose somewhat. As I mentioned before, some will like this idea and some will not.

This is, of course, a major turning point in the story.

Reviews appreciated.


	9. Home

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 9**

Waving cordially to Enjolras and Courfeyrac, and getting the usual cheerful wave from the latter and grunt of recognition from the former, Eponine walked towards the bedroom door. Rapping her knuckles gently on it, Eponine then opened the door, only to be greeted by the sight of her brother on the bed dressed in a clean shirt and underpants, struggling to pull his pants up his ankles with only one working hand. A dirty pile of linen lay next to the bed. When Gavroche saw his sister at the door, he shrieked, embarrassed.

"Eponine! I'm changing!"

"Please, Gavroche." Eponine rolled her eyes as she entered the room and shut the door. "I've seen you naked before. I even helped to change your diapers when you were just a baby!"

"And _I'm _sure that we agreed to _never bring that up again_." Gavroche growled at his sister through gritted teeth as he continued to struggle against the pair of pants that absolutely refused to get past his ankles. Shaking her head, Eponine walked over to the bed and, within seconds, got the pants onto Gavroche with minimal difficulty. Mortified and blushing heavily, Gavroche looked away from his sister and mumbled under his breath.

"I hate not being able to move my arm."

Grinning at her brother's embarrassment, Eponine affectionately stroked Gavroche's hair.

"You'll be able to move it in a few days, won't you? Joly told me that your arm and leg are almost healed. After all, it's been almost a month since you've started living here."

"That day can't come soon enough."

"I'm just glad you're okay, Gavroche." Catching sight of a small stack of paper on the table, Eponine reached out and picked it up. "Hey, what's this?"

"Huh? Oh, I've been practicing my writing. I think I'm getting better!"

"I think so too…though you might want to work on your penmanship a little…" Eponine frowned as she tried to make out some of the crooked letters. "Like this…what's this word? Oh wait, never mind…'à bientôt'. I get it."

"I guess I need more practice." Gavroche admitted sheepishly. "Monsieur Marius has been a great help though. Speaking of him…" Eponine rolled her eyes as a familiar cheeky grin popped up on Gavroche's face. "He's a great guy. I officially approve of you dating him."

"_Thank you_, Gavroche, but I want to remind you again that I don't _need_ your approval to date him, and neither is he interested in me in the first place." A slight pang of sadness arose in Eponine's chest, but she pushed it away for the time being. "This approval thing works the other way, though, since I'm your older sister. One day when you get a girlfriend, I'll be giving _her_ the talk."

Gavroche then contorted his face into one of disgust.

"Why would I ever want a _girlfriend_? Girls are…gross! They've all got coot-ow!"

He then winced as Eponine cuffed him on the side of his head. Pouting and rubbing his forehead, which was by now already clear of bandages, he then grumbled under his breath.

"Especially if all girls are as violent as you, I wouldn't _want_ to have a girlfriend…"

With ears as sharp as a bat's, Eponine picked up his words and raised her hand threateningly yet again, this time grabbing onto her brother's left ear, smirking as he visibly flinched.

"What was that?"

Nervously, Gavroche stammered out an answer.

"Nothing! Nothing at all…girls are great! You're great! Please don't hurt me!"

Satisfied with her little brother's answer and glad that she was taking advantage of the opportunity to teach him some manners, Eponine let go of Gavroche's ear and set his papers back down onto the table. Reminding herself that she had to bring up a particularly sensitive topic, Eponine then sat down comfortably onto the bed and stared at her little brother, who frowned in response.

"What, Eponine? You're freaking me out."

"Gavroche, I know you'll be better soon. In about a week you'll be perfectly healthy, so I need to ask…what are your plans?"

Gavroche had already expecting that this question would come up at some point, either from Eponine or one of the students. However, he didn't have a clear, direct answer to give.

"Well…I'm not completely sure yet, but…"

Feeling slightly guilty for dropping this piece of news on Eponine, Gavroche looked down at the bed before continuing.

"…I really don't want to go back home."

Eponine had already anticipated Gavroche's response, and understood his reasons. He had just spent the past one month under the care of people who were genuinely concerned about him. He had spent the month away from his abusive parents who mistreated him to no end in their house, especially their father, who had bedridden him in the first place. He had spent the month learning about French history, and how to read and write, a valuable education that he had not received before as a result of never being sent to school, thanks to their parent's opinion that sending their son to a school was a "waste of money".

He had found more happiness within this little guesthouse than at their pathetic excuse of a home, where he had previously had to tread quietly and carefully for fear of being called out for some mistake and being unfairly punished.

Why would he want to go back?

At the same time, Eponine could feel her heart fall. For the past month she had held onto the tiny ray of hope that Gavroche would somehow return to her side permanently. Although she still had Azelma, Gavroche brought energy to their dull family life that Eponine dearly missed despite visiting him nearly every day since a month ago. Engrossed in her own thoughts, Eponine rose from the bed and walked to the window, staring out of it, not noticing the worried expression on Gavroche's face.

She would miss him.

Fiercely reminding herself not to be selfish, and that Gavroche's wellbeing was the most important thing, Eponine swallowed and turned around, a smile plastered on her face.

"That's fine. I already expected that you'd say that."

"Eponine…"

"Really, Gavroche, I'm fine." Walking back to her little brother and sitting next to him, Eponine stroked his cheek with a finger as he stared back guiltily at her. Deciding that expression looked very out-of-place on her usually cheery brother, Eponine forced on a grin and pushed Gavroche's shoulder lightly in a joking manner.

"Serious, Gavroche! It's okay, if I were you _I_ wouldn't want to live with maman and papa again. Especially after what papa did to you…I haven't forgiven him for that, either."

"But what about you, Eponine! And Azelma!" Gavroche, conscience-stricken, questioned imploringly. "I'm being very selfish…are you two really okay with this? If you aren't…I'll beg papa to take me back! Honest I will!"

Smiling at the concern that her brother, at a tender age of eight, was sparing for his siblings, Eponine bent over and pecked Gavroche lovingly on his cheek.

"There's no way I would take you away from the guys, Gavroche. I know you're very happy here."

Expecting to see an appreciative smile on Gavroche's face, Eponine was then surprised at the sight of a crestfallen expression instead. Brushing her brother's hair out of his eyes, Eponine enquired worriedly.

"What's wrong, Gavroche?"

"I…I love hanging out with Courfeyrac, Marius and the others, but..." Gavroche picked at a piece of lint on the bed. "They've done so much for me already, and I haven't been able to give anything back to them in return."

"Gavroche, you _know _the guys don't care about payment. They're just glad to see you healthy and happy."

"I know, Eponine, but…" Gavroche gritted his teeth as he tried to find the appropriate words for expressing his thoughts. "I don't think its fair that I live under their charity. Even if they don't mind, it's expensive. I know that this guesthouse alone cost them a lot, especially considering how they rented it for one whole month just for me."

"What are you saying, Gavroche?"

"I'm saying that…"

Staring into Eponine's eyes and praying that she would understand, Gavroche quickly blurted out what he thought.

"I don't think I should stay here anymore."

Eponine's face fell.

"What?"

"Eponine, please understand."

"Then where would you live, Gavroche?"

Already knowing how his sister would react to his answer, Gavroche simply braced himself for the chastising of a lifetime.

"I was thinking I could just…live on the streets."

As Eponine's face darkened rapidly, Gavroche held his breath and waited for his sister to explode in anger.

* * *

"It's rude to eavesdrop, you know."

"Shh!"

Shrugging his shoulders, Enjolras refocused his attention back onto the papers in front of him, trying his best to ignore Courfeyrac, who had positioned himself outside Gavroche's bedroom and was now trying to listen in into the conversation held between the two siblings through the door. Finishing the final sentence to his dissertation, Enjolras breathed a sigh of relief and pushed the stack of papers to the side, leaning back against his chair and relaxing for the first time in days. Spotting Courfeyrac with his ear still against the door, Enjolras frowned.

"Why exactly are you listening in into their conversation?"

Removing himself from the door for a moment, Courfeyrac stared back at Enjolras with an expression that stated that his reason couldn't be more obvious.

"I'm trying to find out what Gavroche is planning to do after Joly finishes his treatment."

"And what have they said so far?"

"They're talking about the French lessons and Marius. Why are you suddenly so interested?"

Enjolras impatiently waved his hand at Courfeyrac as he frowned disapprovingly in his friend's direction.

"Stop being rude and get over here. They're having a private conversation, and it's contents should remain between them. Good grief, Courfeyrac."

Accepting Enjolras' opinion, Courfeyrac sighed as he walked away from the door, still worried about Gavroche's plans. The students were all aware of the fact that Gavroche would be making a decision that would impact them all in about a week's time. Having grown very close to the peppy and effervescent child, Courfeyrac was relatively convinced that Gavroche would want to remain with them.

As though reading Courfeyrac's mind, Enjolras sighed as he stood from his seat.

"I know what you're thinking, Courfeyrac, and trust me. It's not going to happen."

Confused, Courfeyrac was taken aback by Enjolras' offhand comment.

"What?"

Stepping to the little kettle and pouring himself a cup of water, Enjolras raised the cup to his lips and took a sip before responding to Courfeyrac's confusion.

"Gavroche will not want to remain with us, as happy as he is now."

Spluttering a little in disbelief, Courfeyrac sat down at the table, not convinced by Enjolras' prediction.

"I don't get it, Enjolras. Why do you think that?"

"Come on, Courfeyrac. You've been keeping him company for the past weeks and you haven't noticed anything? Gavroche is cheerful around everybody, but his expression every time one of us enters his room tells us that he's feeling guilty about how we're letting him stay here and receive care for free. He's part of the Thenardier family, and he has obviously not been offered much since he was very young. It's not surprising that he would be relatively independent even as a child, and would not be comfortable with receiving charity."

"But this isn't charity! We're doing this for him as…friends!"

"I know that, Courfeyrac, but Gavroche definitely doesn't think so." Sipping from the cup yet again, Enjolras sat back down onto his seat. "He still addresses us all with formalities despite our insistence that he does not. If you ask me, he enjoys our company, but is uncomfortable with the fact that he's not able to give us anything in return. Seriously, Courfeyrac." Enjolras glared disapprovingly at his fellow student. "Basic deduction skills and body language reading have been covered in our lectures before. Don't you ever listen?"

Courfeyrac responded to Enjolras' remark with an indignant air.

"Sure I do."

"Yet you still have so much trouble with your dissertation, mon ami."

Ignoring Enjolras' smart and undeniably accurate comeback, Courfeyrac sank deeper into his seat and stared at the ceiling.

"So what do you think he's going to do?"

"Honestly?" Enjolras placed the cup back onto the table. "I can predict two possibilities. One, he goes back to the Thenardier household-"

"He can't do that! That's a terrible decision!"

"We don't know if he's actually going to choose that, and could you _please_ not interrupt me while I'm speaking?"

Courfeyrac took in the flash of anger in his short-tempered friend and gulped.

"Sorry about that."

"Two…he lives by himself. On the streets."

A moment of silence, before Courfeyrac spoke.

"That's _ridiculous_. How terrifying would that be! The streets aren't safe for a child! Paris is dangerous, especially at night! That might actually be worse than going back to his parents' house!"

"He might still decide to go with that, depending on how he feels towards his parents now. We don't actually know yet."

Burying his head in his hands, Courfeyrac exhaled heavily in frustration as he pondered all the implications.

"To have to choose between two evils…children shouldn't live like this, Enjolras."

Raising the cup to his lips yet again, Enjolras' sipped from it contemplatively as he considered his plans for the future, the idea of change already being formulated in his head.

"Yes, Courfeyrac…they shouldn't."

* * *

**Author's Note** – This chapter was necessary for making a transition between Gavroche in the guesthouse and Gavroche where we're used to seeing him, the streets. I'm still deciding between ideas on how to carry out the transition smoothly.

By the way, thank you to everybody for your consistent reviews, especially on the last chapter. I'm glad nearly everybody liked the song idea, and let me assure you that that was not the last time the song would pop up in my little story. I've got a pretty clever idea and I plan to inject it into the plot at some point.

Reviews appreciated, and thank you all.


	10. Merci

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 10**

"Messieurs,

I apologize for leaving so quickly, but I knew that if I didn't everyone would want me to stay. I cannot. I also apologize for not being able to pay you for the bandages and the room, but I promise I will when I get the money in the future.

Sorry for my bad handwriting. I am still practicing.

Thank you all for everything you have done for me for the past weeks. Monsieur Joly, thank you for treating me, and I'm sorry for leaving before you said it would be okay. I feel fine now, so don't worry. Monsieur Enjolras and monsieur Marius, thank you for taking time to teach me about French history and how to read and write. I am sure this will be important in the future. Monsieur Grantaire and monsieur Courfeyrac, thank you for your many talks, I appreciate the time you have spent with me.

Don't worry about me, I know what to do.

I hope I'll see you all some time in the future.

Amitiés,

Gavroche"

* * *

It was near the end of another winter, the ground covered with a thin layer of melting sleet. Snow came sporadically those days, but the biting winter wind was still very much present as it cut through the skin of those who went unprotected, namely the poor and the homeless. The rich, on the other hand, sat comfortably in their horse-drawn carriages and looked down in disgust at the underprivileged that gathered in hordes begging for money.

Trying his best to block out the horrifying sights and trying not to imagine Gavroche as one of the dirty, malnourished street urchins, Courfeyrac hastily made his way towards the university, already late for a lecture. Stopping only momentarily to drop a franc into the bowl of a beggar who had done a favor for him in the past, Courfeyrac's thoughts were preoccupied as he went about his way, primarily due to the letter that Marius had found on the bed in the guesthouse above the café just earlier that day. In his hands was an additional small, blue jacket that was designed to protect against the wind, which he had failed to deliver to its intended recipient in time.

To some extent, Courfeyrac had braced himself for Gavroche's departure from their lives, however he didn't expect Gavroche to strip off his bandages and splints and take off in the middle of the night, with nothing except for the clothes on his back. His heart, already attuned to the cheerful young boy's presence, pounded rapidly as he worried for Gavroche who, if he had decided not to return to his old home, didn't have appropriate clothes to ward off the cold or any money to buy food with.

What was the child thinking? Did he really not want to be indebted to them so badly that he would risk his own health and survival yet again?

Now feeling slightly angry with the boy for disregarding their efforts, Courfeyrac prayed that Gavroche had at least the courtesy to tell his own sister of his plans, lest she worry herself to death. She was his protector, after all. Thinking about his own anxieties and wondering how Eponine would feel when she returns to the café to visit and finds her brother gone, Courfeyrac held his coat tighter around himself as a particularly chilling wind hit him.

As he walked past a certain house owned by a certain crafty cheat, Courfeyrac's footsteps slowed as his eyes caught the sight of a familiar blond-haired boy, who was kicking at the snow in front of the front door and staring contemplatively at it.

_Gavroche_.

In utter disbelief that he was so lucky to see Gavroche again mere hours after he had disappeared, and incredulous about Gavroche's apparent decision to beg his way back into a loathsome household, it took all of Courfeyrac's willpower to not immediately run forward, snatch the little boy and bring him back to the guesthouse. Reminding himself that Gavroche had free will and was allowed to exercise it, Courfeyrac hastily ducked into a nearby alley before he was seen.

Gavroche continued kicking the snow around for a few more minutes. Even as Courfeyrac stood a few dozen feet away, he could already see that Gavroche was shivering slightly in the merciless winter wind, thanks to his clothes, which only provided a miniscule layer of protection. Looking down at the blue jacket in his arms, Courfeyrac was just about to walk forward and cover him up in it, when Gavroche made an action that caused him to stop.

Taking deep breaths and tentative steps up to the front door of the household, Gavroche commanded his heart to still as he raised a small fist and knocked thrice on the door of his family's home. As he waited for the door to be answered, Gavroche impatiently tapped his feet on the ground, which warmed him up somewhat as the wind continued to blow.

The door then opened. Eponine gasped.

"Ga…Gavroche!"

Smiling brightly at his sister who had not been expecting him to turn up at their doorstep, Gavroche waved at Eponine, who returned his gesture in utter confusion.

"Hi Eponine! Is papa at home?"

Just as Eponine was about to respond to his question, a familiar, distasteful loud shouting came from the stairs, rapidly increasing in amplitude as its owner made his way down to the living room.

"Eponine! Who is it? Shut the door, you're letting the cold in!"

Stepping into the living room, Monsieur Thenardier stopped short when he saw a familiar young boy who had not seen in over a month. The boy stared back at him blankly, this time without a trace of fear in his eyes. Unaccustomed to seeing Gavroche not terrified at his presence, Monsieur Thenardier grinned a nasty, toothy smile as he folded his arms, trying to intimidate his son. He received no response.

"Well well…look who it is."

Gavroche clenched his fists as he saw the man who had tortured him endlessly over the past years.

"What do you want, boy? If I remember correctly, I threw you out and told you stay out of our house." Monsieur Thenardier took a few threatening steps forward. "What, are you back for another spanking? I'd be glad to oblige."

Eponine looked worriedly to and fro between her brother and her father. Placing a hand on Gavroche's shoulder and trying to silently convince him to leave before he got hurt, she was surprised when Gavroche placed his own hand on her own comfortingly.

"It's okay, Eponine. I know what to do."

Monsieur Thenardier, getting impatient, frowned as he watched his son, whom he had tried to undermine for years, speak nonchalantly to his daughter.

"Spit it out, boy. Are you going to beg to come back? Mind you, I'm a tough one to convince."

Trying not to gag at his father's vile countenance, Gavroche took a deep breath. With the charm of a youthful boy soprano, a melodious, chirpy tune came spilling from between his lips with overwhelming gusto.

"Little people know

When little people fight

We may look easy-pickins

But we've got some bite!"

Utterly bewildered at Gavroche's spontaneous song, Monsieur Thenardier merely stared back, dumbfounded.

"So don't just kick a dog

Because he's just a pup!"

Eponine, equally perplexed, prodded Gavroche gently as her brother bent down and scooped up a handful of snow from the porch.

"Gavroche…what're you doing?"

"We'll fight like twenty armies

And we won't give up!"

Ignoring his sister, Gavroche slowly screwed the snow in his hands into a tight ball, creating his favorite winter toy.

"So you'd better run for cover

When the pup…"

Realizing what Gavroche was about to do, and recognizing the disastrous implications that would come, Eponine knelt down in front of her brother and placed both hands on her shoulder, silently begging him to stop.

"Grows…"

A wide grin emerged on Gavroche's face.

"Up!"

At the same moment where he sang the last word of the verse, Gavroche flung the snowball over his sister's shoulder with alarming speed. In disbelief at his son's disobedience, Monsieur Thenardier didn't duck, only to be hit straight in the face by a ball of wet snow that disintegrated on impact. With his upper body covered in cold snow that rapidly melted into water and drenched his clothes, Monsieur Thenardier seethed, his hands tensed on his sides as his blood began to boil.

Eponine winced.

"YOU DAMN BRAT!"

"See you later, Eponine!"

Kissing his sister quickly on her cheek, Gavroche turned heel and raced down the steps in front of the house, nearly tripping as he went. Racing at lightning speed away from the house of his nightmares for the last time, Gavroche looked back as he heard more loud shouting, and saw something that made his heart leap up his throat. His father, brandishing a long stick raised threateningly above his head, was giving chase at an alarming speed.

"I'LL KILL YOU, BOY!"

Turning his back towards his front, Gavroche sped through the streets of Paris, making abrupt turns in an attempt to shake his father off. Not wanting to even consider how much pain he would be experiencing if his father actually got his dirty hands on him, Gavroche started to panic as he realized that his father was far too fast for his short eight-year-old legs to handle.

His legs throbbing painfully, Gavroche looked back once more fearfully, eyes widening as he caught sight of his father, who looked positively bullish as he pursued his son.

_Connerie_!

Before could he could react, Gavroche felt his entire body tilt as a pair of hands grabbed him around his torso and hoisted him upwards. Thinking that one of his father's henchmen had captured him, Gavroche let out a sharp scream. Disoriented by the world turning about his vision, Gavroche then found himself with his arms around the shoulders of his kidnapper, with two hands supporting his behind as he was piggybacked. He then looked behind, only to see his father, still more furious than ever, gradually growing smaller in his vision.

Finally realizing that he was being sped _away_, Gavroche turned to the front to identify his savior, and beamed.

"Monsieur Courfeyrac!"

Zooming further and further away from a murderous Monsieur Thenardier, Courfeyrac responded to Gavroche's greeting with a glare.

"Gavroche, are you _suicidal?!_"

Biting his lip to conceal his grin, Gavroche leant his head against Courfeyrac's shoulder, enjoying his momentary protection.

* * *

Having finally gotten away from Monsieur Thenardier, Courfeyrac walked briskly into an open area within the marketplace and set Gavroche back down onto his feet. Now feeling incredibly guilty for taking up Courfeyrac's time and effort yet again, Gavroche looked up to apologize, only to grimace at the frown that remained on Courfeyrac's face.

"I…I'm sorry, monsieur Courfeyrac!"

"About what, exactly? Making me save you, or running away from us, leaving only a letter behind?"

Closing his eyes tightly as he looked down remorsefully the ground, Gavroche tried his best not to cry. He was then surprised yet again by Courfeyrac wrapping him up in a little blue jacket.

"N…no, monsieur Courfeyrac! I cannot possibly take any more from you!"

Defiantly buttoning the coat up, Courfeyrac tilted Gavroche's eyes to face him with a finger under his chin.

"It's a gift. Don't refuse it; it'll keep you warm. There are a couple of francs in one of its pockets for you to buy food with. Don't-" Raising his index finger to Gavroche's lips, Courfeyrac stared back sternly at the boy, who fell silent. "Don't interrupt me. Just listen, alright?"

Gavroche slowly nodded his head.

"Listen…I know you don't want to take charity, and you don't want to be indebted to the five of us, and I can understand that. If you want to live by yourself on the streets, fine by me, you have my blessing. All I can ask is that you keep yourself safe and stay out of trouble. Do you have friends living on the streets?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Excellent. Stick with them, look after each other. Make sure you keep in contact with your sister whenever you can, she'll be worried about you. One more thing," Courfeyrac gritted his teeth as he prayed that Gavroche would accept his proposition. "The five of us have…talked about to do if you left us. Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays…come by the café around the late afternoon. Marius, Enjolras and I will continue teaching you French and history. Don't refuse that either, even if you say no now I won't tell both of them, so you'll be keeping them waiting for nothing, and I know you don't want to be rude."

Touched by the heartwarming gesture, Gavroche felt his lower lip trembling and tears well up in his eyes. Feeling emotional himself, Courfeyrac wrapped Gavroche in his arms and squeezed him tightly.

"We're going to miss you, Gavroche."

At that, the tears began to flow unrestrained from Gavroche's eyes. Never before had he experienced such kindness. Never before had he been offered anything more than meager rations and unfair punishments. Never had anyone been so _nice_. Choking out words, Gavroche returned Courfeyrac's hug with one of his own.

"Me…merci, monsieur!"

His own eyes starting to sting, Courfeyrac let go of Gavroche. Attempting to break the emotional tension, he decided to make a joke.

"If you're feeling bored at any time, just pop by the café. Grantaire will probably be there all the time, if you know what I mean."

Chuckling at Courfeyrac's joke, Gavroche wiped his eyes and nodded his head.

"I'm running really late for class now, so…stay safe, alright?"

"I promise!"

"Good."

As Gavroche walked into the crowd, Courfeyrac swore under his breath as he wiped away his own tears with his coat sleeve, cursing himself for being so silly as to cry when they would be seeing Gavroche again in a few days time. Just as he was able to turn away and make his way towards the university, he heard a shout from behind him.

"Merci, monsieur Courfeyrac!"

Waving back at the tiny hand that popped out above the endlessly flowing stream of people, Courfeyrac chuckled and shook his head before turning around.

The boy was gutsy and resourceful. He would be safe. Courfeyrac knew that.

Realizing exactly how late he was for the lecture, Courfeyrac took a moment to regain his bearings as he set off on a quick brisk, knowing that he would be hearing about his disregard for his own education from Enjolras for a very long time.

* * *

**Author's Note** – This was easily my favorite chapter to write. Switching between elements of humor and emotion was a bit of a challenge, but I think I pulled it off pretty well. I understand that it might seem a little abrupt, but I'd rather end it via this chapter than stretching out my mental processes by thinking up a few more chapters of filler plot that could potentially complicate things unnecessarily. So, timeskip + letter + confrontation + goodbye for now. Hopefully everybody's okay with that.

In case people didn't realise, I let Gavroche make up the second part of the verse by himself. I mean, come on...let's not take _all_ the song credits away from him. xD

Well, this is the final part of an unofficial "part 1" for the story, which comprises Gavroche's familiarity with the students before the events of the actual musical. At this point Valjean and Cosette are already in hiding from Javert. I will continue the story, but the next chapter will see a massive timeskip that spans around three years. I'll essentially be telling Gavroche's story from my own perspective, and as usual, injecting my own ideas as I go along.

Reviews appreciated, and thank you for sticking with me so far.


	11. Meeting

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 11**

The sun had almost completely set on Paris for the day, a gleam of orange light that shrouded streets that were still, like three years before, swarming with beggars that were wandering around to find a good place to rest for the night. Merchants who were fortunate enough to own shops of their own were closing up for the evening after a relatively lukewarm day of sales, as they prayed for better times to come despite the darkness that threatened to one day completely consume their once great empire.

Panting followed the gentle but rapid patter of feet in tiny puddles as the owner of said feet dashed in the direction of a certain café. He had planned to arrive earlier at the scheduled meeting, which he had caught wind of via his own sister, who was part of the loop of information that ran through a large group of youth in Paris. However, he had spent an unexpectedly large amount of time pulling one of his younger friends, who had yet to learn how to swim, out of a pond.

The boy wasn't exactly in fantastic shape himself, but he was considered fortunate amongst the many children that populated the streets, alleys and gutters of Paris, thanks to his street-smarts, his knowledge of the city's many small passageways and his exuberant, happy-go-lucky personality that appealed very much to the many shopkeepers that graced the city. The main reason he sometimes went hungry at night was because he had shared a bowl of soup or a loaf of bread with friends who he had decided needed nourishment far more urgently than him.

Life was tough, but he was happy.

He was running late, though.

Skidding as he reached a corner and picking up pace as he increased the length of his stride, he caught sight of one of his friends closing his store for the night, a merchant whom his sister used to deliver groceries for. Beaming widely, he greeted the man whilst still jogging towards the café.

"Bonsoir, monsieur Laffont!"

"Bonsoir! Want some bread?"

"Merci, but I'm running late!"

Responding to the man's wave with one of his own, he saw the sun continue to vanish into the earth and swore under his breath. Narrowly avoiding knocking into a group of passer-bys around a corner, Gavroche willed himself to speed up.

There was _no way_ he was going to be late for Enjolras' meeting.

* * *

The news of a meeting to discuss tentative plans for Paris' future had spread like wildfire throughout the university, thanks to the efforts of a small group of students who already subscribed to Enjolras' ideas. The first meeting, which was open to all who were interested, was scheduled to be held at the Café Musain that very evening, and had so far seen an audience of twenty that now waited for the organizer's arrival. Numbers were originally predicted to be greater, however many had decided not to attend the meeting at the last moment for fear of inciting the displeasure of the many officials that patrolled the streets.

Sipping a little alcohol to calm his jittery nerves and ensuring that his jacket was straightened out in the mirror, Enjolras pushed open the door and walked coolly into the café. At his entrance, the room immediately grew silent, a response to which Enjolras smiled at.

"Good evening, friends, and welcome."

Walking up to the chalkboard and smiling at the twenty-odd hesitant faces that stared back at him, Enjolras picked up a piece of chalk.

"Thank you for attending this meeting. Unfortunately, some of my friends were unable to make it today, so I'll have to introduce my ideas to you alone. I trust that we'll…"

Spotting a familiar impish face seated near the front of the café, Enjolras trailed off his words, not expecting the boy to be present in the first place.

"Er…Gavroche?"

Realizing that he was being addressed, and that he was currently attracting the attention of the entire group of twenty men around twice his age and size, Gavroche puffed up his chest and responded with gusto.

"Yes, monsieur Enjolras?"

Now sweating a little at the unexpected interruption, Enjolras used his sleeve to wipe off his forehead. The men gathered in the café stared curiously at the pint-sized boy amongst them. Random chatter started to sound out from the back of the café.

"What…what are you doing here? It's Wednesday, our history lesson is tomorrow."

"I know, monsieur Enjolras!" Gavroche piped up cheerfully. "I wanted to listen to your ideas!"

Feeling significantly less confident as compared to when he had first stepped into the café, Enjolras knelt down to Gavroche's eye level and smiled at the boy sheepishly, inciting a grin in return.

"Thanks for your enthusiasm, Gavroche, but…I don't think what we're going to speak about is, well…appropriate for children."

Gavroche's face fell, only to be replaced by a pout of indignation.

"I'm not a child!"

"No, no, I'm sure you're not…" Enjolras placed a hand on Gavroche's shoulder, trying to pacify him. "I'm just saying that-"

"Good grief, Enjolras, just let him listen. What harm will it do?"

Simultaneously, all eyes turned to the table where the voice had rang out from. Placing his beer back onto the table, Grantaire turned lazily to Enjolras.

"You're talking about plans for revolution, not about sex, bad language or other nitty-gritty things. Why shouldn't Gavroche be allowed to listen? Isn't that right, Gavroche?"

Nodding his head eagerly, Gavroche gleefully agreed with his supporter.

"Oui, monsieur Grantaire!"

Frowning at Grantaire's interjection, Enjolras tried to make his point.

"Revolution is a serious thing. It involves war, arms and potentially death. I don't think that such subject matter is even _remotely_ appropriate for children."

Immediately, the room burst into hubbub and expressions of disapproval and disagreement. One of Enjolras' friends, who sat at the front row, raised his hand.

"Er…Enjolras, though you have good intentions and all…didn't Marius and Courfeyrac state that _anybody _was allowed to attend this meeting?"

A chorus of agreement rang out amongst the students. Realizing that he was losing control of the slightly rambunctious crowd, Enjolras raised both his hands imploringly.

"All right! All right! If I could just have some silence!"

As the loud conversation died down, Enjolras pursed his lips and looked back down at Gavroche, who stared back with innocent eyes and a pleading expression.

"All right, Gavroche…" Enjolras sighed and prayed that he was making the right decision. "You can stay and listen."

His eyes practically sparkling with joy, Gavroche ecstatically threw both his arms around Enjolras' torso, knocking the wind out of him a little.

"Merci, monsieur Enjolras!"

Blushing a little at the boy's sudden show of affection and the chorus of "aws" that rang throughout the tiny café, Enjolras awkwardly petted Gavroche's head before the boy practically pranced back to his seat, waiting eagerly for him to start. Clearing his throat and straightening his jacket, Enjolras stared once more at the now silent crowd and began his plans for the evening. His presence resonated throughout the entire room as he spoke.

"As I was saying, there is a lot to be covered over the next hour or so, so I trust that I'll have everyone's attention…"

* * *

As the smatterings of appreciative applause and loud discussions gradually died down, Gavroche remained in his seat, still staring up at Enjolras in complete awe as the man erased his chalkboard and shook the hands of men who congratulated him on an excellent talk and meeting. Gavroche had always known that Enjolras was the most eloquent and intelligent of the few students he had actually gotten to know, but he never imagined that Enjolras' manner of speech could be that _infectious_.

Just an hour after Enjolras had begun his speech, Gavroche felt like he really _did_ want to stand up for his fellow men.

Hopping off his stool and running to the chalkboard, which was in the process of being erased, Gavroche tugged on Enjolras' coat sleeve to get his attention.

"That was an _incredible_ talk, monsieur Enjolras!"

Looking at the enthusiastic expression on the boy's face, Enjolras couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you, Gavroche. I'm glad you liked it. Have you eaten dinner yet?"

Ignoring Gavroche's adamant and immediate refusal of Enjolras' offer to buy him food, Enjolras turned to the nearby waitress and ordered two meals for the both of them. Three years into his time on the streets, Gavroche was still as stubborn with regards to accepting gifts and charity as he had been before, to the point that the students realized the only way to get him to accept anything was to place it in front of him and refuse to entertain his declining of their goodwill.

There was, of course, another genuine reason for Enjolras' generosity aside from his appreciation of Gavroche's presence in his meeting. Judging by Gavroche's still small size and how his blue coat hung loosely about his shoulders, Enjolras could tell that he wasn't eating nearly enough. The students had heard stories retold by Eponine about how he would successfully obtain food from merchants, but would later give nearly all of it to his malnourished friends. This behavior had gained him many chums, but did nothing for his physical growth.

Guiding Gavroche, who was still protesting valiantly over Enjolras' order, to Grantaire's table via a hand on his back, Enjolras pulled up a seat and sat down wearily, tired but satisfied over the minor success of the night. Grantaire caught his eye, and grinned.

"Nice work."

"Thanks." Recalling what Grantaire had said to him days ago, Enjolras frowned. "Why are you here anyway? You said that you weren't interested in revolution."

"I'm not interested in revolution…but I'm here to support you as a friend. Besides, you're pretty entertaining."

"Thanks, I guess…" Enjolras paid the waitress who had returned with their meals, and pushed the steaming bowl of salubrious Bouillabaisse in front of Gavroche. Mouth already watering at the overwhelmingly delectable aroma that came pouring forth from the bowl, Gavroche gritted his teeth and stared up at Enjolras stubbornly, still adamant about not taking food for free.

Enjolras merely shrugged and dug into his own bowl of Pot au Feu with vigor, completely ignoring Gavroche's frown.

With hunger battling against pride, Gavroche continued staring spitefully at the bowl of stew that lay waiting for his consumption. As the heavenly scent drifted into his nostrils, Gavroche could feel his defense crumbling into pieces. Hunger finally defeating pride, Gavroche picked up his spoon and dug into the Bouillabaisse, devouring it with unrestrained voracity.

Enjolras and Grantaire both grinned.

"I'm still not interested in revolution, by the way." Enjolras rolled his eyes as he nodded to acknowledge Grantaire's comment. "However, I need to ask…you talked about writing in to Lamarque and sending a petition in to the ministry. What if all that doesn't pan out?"

Without missing a beat, Enjolras took another bite of beef before responding.

"We bear arms."

"Ah."

Hearing Enjolras' words, Gavroche set down his spoon and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, before turning in his seat and facing the student.

"Can I take part in your plans, monsieur Enjolras?"

Frowning, Enjolras set down his own utensils and stared at Gavroche. There wasn't a trace of humor in his serious eyes.

"Absolutely not."

"But…"

"But nothing. And Grantaire, don't try and speak up for him again. This goes far beyond just listening in into our plans."

Pursing his lips, Grantaire raised his glass and sipped from it, silently acknowledging Enjolras' point.

"Listen to me, Gavroche. This isn't a game that we're playing. This is serious business, revolution. People will get hurt, and some might die. The last thing we need is to get innocent children involved in this."

"But monsieur Enjolras, I'm not a-"

"I don't want to hear it, Gavroche!" Raising his voice, Enjolras saw Gavroche shrink a little into his coat and forced himself to harden his heart despite the guilt billowing in his chest, for the sake of protecting the boy's welfare. "You can listen all you want, but I will _not_ compromise your safety or your life. And don't try to give me those eyes." Enjolras immediately disregarded the tiny trace of angry tears that were pooling in Gavroche's wide eyes. "It's for your own good."

Turning away from the boy and returning to his own bowl of food, Enjolras picked up his spoon and tried to ignore the glare that Gavroche was shooting him from the side. Staring between the two seated at his table, Grantaire set down his mug and spoke gently to Gavroche.

"Gavroche, finish your food."

Gavroche stubbornly folded his arms and stared down at the ground, huffing and pouting.

"I don't want it anymore."

"Don't be silly. Eat up, I know you're hungry." Enjolras scowled sternly as he chastised the boy. "I'm still your friend, Gavroche, you can count on that. It's just that when it comes to matters to do with the revolution, I would prefer if you didn't get yourself involved and into trouble. Now finish the food."

Grudgingly, Gavroche picked up the spoon yet again and pushed it into the stew. A small smile emerged on Enjolras' face, which he hid from Gavroche's view.

"Before we leave, remind me to buy some bread for your friends. Since it's for them and not for you, that should be okay, right?"

"…merci, monsieur Enjolras."

"You're welcome."

As the trio ate and drank in relative silence, Enjolras told himself to be more careful when talking about the revolution around Gavroche in the future, and to remind himself to speak to Marius, Joly and Courfeyrac about the matter. He knew that Gavroche would definitely try to involve himself in a matter far larger than his tiny, undernourished stature, and potentially put himself in grave danger when a situation arises.

Children shouldn't live like that.

* * *

**Author's Note** – And welcome all to part two of my little novella. I missed out on any opportunity to showcase a proper parent-child situation in the first ten chapters, therefore I decided to have one here between Enjolras and Gavroche. Did I pull that off okay? Do tell me about it. I also thought it'd be nice to do another title reference to start off part two, hopefully it didn't seem out of place.

Part two will be proceeding at a relatively more accelerated pace compared to part one. I'll be skipping between events instead of a solid timeline, and occasionally making references to what occurs in the musical. As I stated in the Author's Note for Chapter 1, I might change details of the original story if I find it suits my storytelling (redramatization and all that), but I'll try to avoid it as far as possible to keep everyone happy.

Reviews appreciated.


	12. Javert

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 12**

The two young boys screamed as they were hoisted to their feet by a pair of sturdy hands. Dropping their load of bread onto the ground, they tearfully pleaded for mercy. Their captor frowned sternly at the two street urchins, gripping them by the scruffs of their necks resolutely, and unyielding towards their pleas.

"We din't steal no bread, inspector!"

"The bread is ours, inspector!"

"Don't lie to me!" The policeman's shout frightened the two children and caused their screams to regress into fearful snivels. "I know you two must have stolen it from somewhere, where else would you have gotten so much food?"

"Please, inspector, it was a gift!"

"And you're honestly asking me to believe that, you little imps? How dare you undermine the law!"

Gavroche's ears perked up at the familiar screams and the sound of an unfamiliar, brutal voice. Hastily apologizing to the merchant with whom he had conversed with, Gavroche leapt down from his seat and set off on a rapid sprint in the direction of said sound. Skidding to the halt at the sight of his two unofficially-adopted little brothers being manhandled by a man adorned in a police uniform, Gavroche growled as he ran forth and glared up at the cad.

"LET GO OF THEM, YOU DAMN POLICEMAN!"

Hearing the angry voice, inspector Javert looked down whilst still holding the two children up, who exclaimed in relief at the sight of their protector.

"Gavroche!"

"Gavroche, save us!"

Glaring down with equivalent malevolence at the boy who seemed to be trying to bore a hole into his forehead with his eyes, Javert straightened his back to portray himself in a more intimidating fashion. His efforts, however, didn't work against the already furious Gavroche, evidenced by his clenched fists and gritted teeth.

"Leave, young man. This doesn't concern you."

"Like hell it doesn't concern me! They're my brothers, you jerk!"

Infuriated by Gavroche's rapid-fire diction, Javert roared.

"WATCH YOUR TONGUE, BOY! THESE TWO WERE CAUGHT STEALING!"

Glancing briefly at the bread that lay on the ground, Gavroche's gaze darkened as he recognized the "stolen goods"; loaves of bread that _he_ had personally obtained for them from a generous shop owner just hours ago. Now positively seething at the inspector's assumption that his brothers were criminals just because they lived on the streets, Gavroche spun around and yelled.

"I said LET GO OF THEM!"

Bravely charging forward, Gavroche launched a leg skywards, which collided painfully with Javert's kneecap. Wincing at the sharp pain that erupted through his leg, the inspector released the two boys, who fell to the ground and scrambled to their feet. Picking up the bread, dusting it off and shoving it into their hands, Gavroche looked back only to see a very angry Javert who appeared to be practically steaming from the top of his head. Sensing immediate danger, Gavroche yelled to his two brothers.

"Quick! Run!"

The two gamins turned tail and fled with their tails between their legs. Following them from behind at a distance to avoid allowing them to be caught again, Gavroche yelped as a hand closed itself on his left leg, pulling him backwards and causing him to fall face-first onto the ground. With a pained grimace, Gavroche then felt his face being pressed against the ground and his hands held firmly behind his back, essentially immobilizing him.

"I'll teach you to help thieves, you little brat!"

Gavroche felt his blood run cold as rope touched his left wrist and spun, ensnarling it tightly. The possibility of getting arrested and sent to prison now very, very real, Gavroche valiantly lashed out at the inspector with his foot, but to no avail. Binding Gavroche's right hand to his left, Javert lifted a very subdued Gavroche to his feet and smirked at the boy, who continued struggling against the bonds that kept his hands behind his back.

"Helping criminals is a serious crime, boy."

"They aren't criminals!"

"I'll deal with them when I see them later, but you had better start worrying about _yourself_. The courts will deal with anyone as they see fit, even a rascally child. Now, march!"

Wincing at the rough prod that he received from Javert's police baton, Gavroche kept his head low and stayed silent, not wanting to infuriate the unreasonable officer any further. Embarrassed by the few nosy passer-bys who pointed and stared at the sight of a street urchin being led away by a policeman, Gavroche cringed and tried to hide his head in his messy blond hair, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the officer.

"This is what happens to those who do not follow the law, lad. A few weeks of prison time will do you good, I think. You'll learn to regre-"

"Gavroche?!"

At the sound of his name, Gavroche's head shot upwards, his eyes meeting familiar brown ones.

"Eponine!"

Walking quickly up to the two, Eponine placed her groceries down onto the ground and stared straight at Javert with an accusing look on her face.

"What's going on here?"

At the sight of the young woman, Javert frowned, obviously displeased. Gripping tighter onto Gavroche's bonds to avoid an escape, Javert addressed the young woman, who he knew to be the daughter of an infamous cheat. Having interfered with the family's schemes many times in the past, he had gotten to know individual members of the clan. Their eldest daughter had been the only one who had never gotten into serious trouble, a distinction that set her apart from the rest of the accursed family. Javert's suspicions remained, though.

"Do you know this boy, Mademoiselle Thenardier?"

"Hell yes I know him, he's my brother! Let him go!"

"I'm afraid not, mademoiselle." Javert's hat slipped slightly downwards, shrouding his eyes with an ominous shadow. "Your brother just helped two thieves who had stolen wares escape. Under the eyes of the law I'm tasked to hand him over to the appropriate authorities."

Unable to stand listening to his two little's brothers being accused by the irrational policeman, Gavroche twisted himself around and shouted in the man's face.

"They didn't break any law! I gave them the bread!"

His face red with anger, Javert increased his grip on the rope, causing Gavroche to cringe as the material ate into his skin.

"So _you_ stole the bread?!"

"I didn't…I didn't steal anything! It was a gift from Madame Delacour from the bread store!"

"Please be reasonable, inspector Javert!" Eponine hastily looked around the marketplace in search of the person in question. "Let us look for Madame Delacour, and she can explain everything to you!"

"Your brother is obviously trying to worm his way out of getting arrested, Mademoiselle Thenardier. Now if you'll just step aside, there are things that I must…oh good _grief_!"

As though she had just performed a magic trick, Eponine seemed to reached into the crowd and emerge with Madame Delacour herself, who had somehow just been in the vicinity doing her own shopping. Somewhat flustered at being manhandled by the young woman, Madame Delacour turned to chastise Eponine, only to see her favorite little customer being restrained by a policeman.

"My goodness…Gavroche!"

"Ma…madame Delacour!" Gavroche tried to step forward in desperation, only to be pulled back by Javert, causing him to nearly trip over his own feet. "Please help me!"

"Good afternoon, madam." Javert tipped his head politely, despite his inner rage at being held back from finishing his job. "I found this boy protecting two others who seemed to have stolen some food. Loaves of bread, to be exact. He claims that he gave the bread to them, which he obtained from you. Is this true?"

"Why, yes, inspector!" Madame Delacour folded her arms as she stared at the officer sternly. "I own the bread store with my husband, don't you remember? You purchased some bread last week with a few colleagues."

As the memory flashed back into Javert's head, he cringed, cursing himself for not recalling what the woman looked like.

"I give little Gavroche here some bread whenever he comes by. Charming boy, he is. Quite a smooth-talker, not that I mind."

At the comment, Eponine placed her hands on her hips and stared quizzically at her little brother, who, now that his freedom seemed to be assured, was more than willing to flash her a cheeky smile.

"Thank you, madam. Let him go, inspector. My brother didn't do anything wrong."

Abashed at his mistake, Javert tried his best to ignore the smirk on the boy's face as he slowly undid his bonds.

"It appears that I've…made a mistake."

Fighting the urge to utter a scathing insult, Gavroche breathed a sigh of relief as the pressure on his wrists lifted. Rubbing them vivaciously to aid his circulation, Gavroche pouted cutely and stared up at Javert with his trademark puppy eyes, before uttering a single sentence in the sweetest voice he could muster.

"I think you owe me an apology, inspector."

The line's effect was instantaneous, causing Eponine to roll her eyes, Madame Delacour to swoon lovingly and Javert to glare at him with as much hatred he could possibly express non-verbally. Hands trembling in fury, Javert slowly raised his hand to his hat and tipped it reluctantly.

"My apologies."

Without another word, Javert tipped his hat to both Madame Delacour and Eponine before striding away, his coattails flapping loosely in the wind. Gavroche smiled as Eponine placed her hands on his shoulders, and continued rubbing his sore wrists. Staring at the inspector from behind, he made a mental note to be wary of the man, who seemed far more bothersome than other policemen during his other minor clashes with the law.

* * *

It had been weeks since the first official meeting of the Les Amis. Their numbers had expanded to include a large number of students enthusiastic towards Enjolras' cause. Even some Parisians had found their way to the café on meeting days thanks to the most effective method of information transfer: word of mouth. It seemed that Enjolras' ideas for revolution were agreed upon by a significant population of the city, something that bode well for the future of the cause.

It was, of course, inevitable that the students' actions had caught the attention of the authorities. Knowledge of a potential rebellion had reached the higher-ups in parliament, though no action has been proposed as of yet, the tense atmosphere about the city had grown even tenser as the possibility of civil war grew.

"Did you see the headlines?"

Confused by Courfeyrac's urgent expression and the paper he was flinging about loosely in one hand, Enjolras shook his head. As the newspaper landed on the table at which he was sitting, Enjolras read the text in large print and leapt to his feet, snatching the paper and reading excerpts from it.

"General Lamarque contracts cholera…in critical condition…doctors fear the worst?! This is…"

"…Terrible news."

"Shit…" Letting loose an additional stream of assorted French vulgarities, Enjolras threw the paper onto the table and ran his hands through his hair. Courfeyrac stared at him worriedly. Taking a moment to compose himself, Enjolras then spoke with a voice more resolute than before.

"It's time to take action."

"You mean…"

"Contact Marius." Enjolras glanced at Courfeyrac with a look of tenacity. "Spread word to the other students that we'll set our plan into motion in three hours outside city hall, and ask them to be there. I'll gather our flags and banners, and spread word through the Paris grapevine."

"Understood."

"I'll meet you, Marius and the rest at our pre-decided meeting spot."

With a few more words of goodwill exchanged, the two friends departed from the café with more resolve than before. What they did not notice, however, was a familiar little youngster crouched outside the café, who had listened in to their every word.

Gavroche knew that Enjolras didn't want him involved. He knew that the students all worried for his safety. He knew that Eponine told him to stay out of the crosshairs of the revolution and to not get himself involved at all cost. Gavroche also knew, however, the cause that the Les Amis was fighting for. It was a cause that touched him and _affected _him directly. When he factored in the fact that his _friends_ were fighting for such a cause, how was it possible to not concern himself with it?

Gavroche was stubborn that way.

Pulling his blue coat snugly onto his shoulders, Gavroche raced off in the opposite direction from Courfeyrac and Enjolras, a plan already taking shape in his head.

* * *

**Author's Note** – I needed an event to divide Lamarque's death and the previous chapter, so I thought a nice (or not so nice) meeting between Javert and Gavroche would suffice. I prefer that something like this happen instead of the musical's depiction of Gavroche spotting Javert on the roofs singing, this one makes it a tad more realistic when it comes to prose, but that's just me.

Shorter chapter this time. I've actually gotten a nice plan for the rest of the story in my head, it should cap off at around 20 chapters of content.

Reviews appreciated.


	13. Inevitable

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 13**

Gavroche's little plan had been simple, but useful for the Les Amis, which the point of its conception and execution had not been informed of the children under its employment. Essentially, it involved stationing groups of Gavroche's friends at city hall in shifts to keep updated with information on General Lamarque's health status. At the point where the unfortunate but nearly inevitable news was announced, the information could be immediately relayed to Gavroche, who would inform the leaders of the Les Amis.

It would save valuable time on the part of the students, who could take action and make plans immediately instead of wasting time for the press to report the information. Although the possibility had not occurred to Gavroche himself, it was not completely improbable for parliament to keep Lamarque's death and the press under wraps in hopes of delaying the civil war that threatened the city's military force.

The plan was not supposed to come to fruition so quickly. _Nobody_ wanted the plan to come to fruition so quickly. Unfortunately, the fates had dealt Paris an unfavorable hand from the moment their reigning king had been placed into a position of power. The final nail in the coffin was merely a reminder of the second coming that would inevitably come.

As Gavroche dashed his way through the streets, he held his hand to his mouth and choked back tears. It seemed silly to cry for something like this, to cry for a person whom he had never met in real life, let alone talked to. Gavroche was, however, completely aware of the stature that this man held amongst his fellow men. This man stood up for the rights of the working class, the underdogs of society, the same people that he met living on the streets; the homeless, the wretched, and the unlucky.

How many times have people died of illness and malnourishment of these streets? How many friends had he lost? How many people had, still, hung on to life with the faint hope that this man, the sole beacon of truth and light in French parliament, would one day save them all from their seemingly inevitable mortality?

And now the fates have snatched this man away.

His breathing now coming in pained, rapid gasps, a culmination of his frantic running and his grief, Gavroche willed himself to at least maintain _some_ level of composure such that he could face his friends and deliver his news properly, to prove that he was some help to them, no matter how small. It was the least he could do for the cause. The students of Les Amis now seemed like the only people who could lead the poor in this time of pain and suffering.

The café now in his sights, Gavroche wiped off the tears running down his cheeks with his coat sleeves and quickened his pace. Courfeyrac, who immediately got to his feet upon noticing his young friend's red eyes and disconsolate demeanor, first spotted him. The other students didn't see him, instead continuing their loud chatter and clinking of glasses. As Gavroche reached the café and heaved at its steps, the man stepped in front to greet him, worried.

"Gavroche, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost! Did someone hurt you?"

Ignoring both questions, Gavroche merely looked up and spoke meekly.

"I have news."

Pushing past a bewildered Courfeyrac, Gavroche stepped into the café of rambunctious men, and shouted.

"Listen!"

The men didn't hear him. Marius sat at the center of the café, seemingly awestruck at an unknown entity on the ceiling. Enjolras sat on his side, chastising him for some unknown reason. Grantaire was talking to a group of students, loudly clinking glasses with them and cheering for nothing at all.

How could they bear to celebrate at a time like _this_?

"Listen to me!"

Yet again the men failed to hear the boy's shout, instead entertaining themselves with their own devices. Mustering up all the torment in his heart, Gavroche bit his lip till it drew blood, before screaming at the Les Amis with as much vigor that he could gather from his tiny body.

"LISTEN EVERYBODY!"

Immediately the café fell silent, to the point where the sound of a bottle cap falling to the floor could have echoed for miles. As dozens of eyes turned to face the young street urchin, Enjolras rose to his feet, concerned.

"Gavroche, what's-"

Gavroche was usually far too polite to interrupt the words of the student whom he looked up to the most, but the situation at hand seemed far too severe for him to concern himself with formalities. Shakily, Gavroche delivered his message.

"General Lamarque is dead."

* * *

As the furniture fell from the heavens and shattered upon the stones that cobbled the streets, the Les Amis made hasty preparations for the threat that would fall upon them at any given time. Their own threat to the government, a live demonstration led by Enjolras and Marius that declared their urge to fight should Lamarque succumb to his illness, had apparently been taken very seriously. As a message from the army, delivered by a solitary soldier, reached Enjolras' hands, the leader of the Les Amis read it quickly before thrusting it into Marius' hands.

"Demands for us to abandon our cause and surrender immediately."

"We ignore this, of course."

"It goes without saying."

Crushing the letter in his hands, Marius tossed the paper aside and hurried away to direct the many men with regards to the formation of the barricade. As the men worked, Enjolras recalled something that had bothered him since the afternoon and strode off in the direction of the café, where he was sure that a certain disobedient gamin was resting.

Opening the doors to the now closed café, Enjolras strode in purposefully and spotted Grantaire chugging down yet another mug of beer, still indifferent to all the activity occurring outside. Sitting next to him was Gavroche, with a conflicted expression on his face, as though he had done something good yet terrible at the same time. His cheeks were still stained with tears. His eyes meeting's Enjolras' own, Gavroche gulped as he waited for Enjolras to speak, anticipating the worst.

"Gavroche."

Keeping his head down, Gavroche prayed that Enjolras would at least be somewhat merciful despite his disobedience. Grantaire, noticing Gavroche's sullenness, placed a hand on his shoulder as he continued to sip his drink.

"Gavroche, if you feel you've done something right, show everyone that. Keep your head high and show yourself a little respect. Take whatever comes like a man."

Hearing Grantaire's words, Gavroche sucked in his stomach and slowly raised his head to face Enjolras yet again, ignoring the pounding in his ears as the student stared back sternly at him.

"You disobeyed me, Gavroche."

"…Yes, monsieur."

"Did I not make myself clear weeks ago? Didn't I say that you must not involve yourself in what we do?"

"…Yes, monsieur."

"Did you forget what I had said?"

"…No, monsieur."

Now gazing directly at Enjolras with a defiant spark in his eyes, Gavroche spoke with more resolution than ever.

"I did it because I wanted to."

Enjolras took in Gavroche's response quietly. After a long-drawn half a minute, the student sank into a nearby seat, before looking up Gavroche, who was now filled with trepidation, with a small smile.

"You did a good job, Gavroche."

Not expecting praise for his deed, Gavroche took a moment to stammer back an answer.

"Me…merci."

"How did you know when the news would emerge from city hall?"

"I didn't." Fiddling with his jacket between his fingers, Gavroche sucked on his lip, which had stopped bleeding just minutes ago. "I had some of my friends stay there to listen out for news. We were going to take turns..."

"That's good thinking right there, Gavroche."

"Merci…"

Running a hand through his hair, Enjolras pursed his lips for a moment, in deep musing. Making up his mind, he slowly reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a small gun, to which Grantaire raised an eyebrow and Gavroche flinched at, sinking deeper into his seat. In disbelief that Enjolras was going to _shoot_ him for ignoring his instruction, he pulled his legs closer to himself and trembled, his eyes not leaving the gun in Enjolras' hand. Watching Gavroche's reaction to the appearance of the weapon, Enjolras couldn't help but grin. As he deposited the gun onto the table, Gavroche stopped short and looked at Enjolras, obviously confused.

"This is for you. Use it to protect yourself in case someone confronts you, but _don't_ take part in the battle actively, do you understand me? I don't want you to get hurt."

In disbelief at the fact that Enjolras was willing to trust him with a weapon, Gavroche nodded meekly and picked up it by its barrel.

"I need to go and rally the men. You can help with the setting up of the barricades if you wish, but after you're done with that I want you in a safe place. Ask Grantaire or Courfeyrac to show you how to use the gun properly without hurting yourself, okay?"

The moment Gavroche nodded, Enjolras was out of the café, gone as quickly as he had come.

Grantaire let out a low, surprised whistle. Taking the gun from Gavroche's hands and examining it, he then thrust it back at the boy, who still looked stupefied as though he had just imagined the previous event. Tapping Gavroche teasingly on the head with the muzzle of the gun and inciting a light wince and a pout, Grantaire picked up his mug and stepped to the counter to refill it himself, leaving a very perplexed Gavroche sitting at the table by himself.

* * *

"Eponine?"

Spotting his sister sitting in a darkened corner about the barricades, Gavroche slowly trod up to her and bent down, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder and shaking her.

"What're you doing here, Eponine? I thought you didn't want to be part of this."

Eponine turned her head around to face her brother, which caused Gavroche to gasp at her bloodshot eyes and puffed cheeks, an expression that seemed very foreign on his usually tenacious sister. Before Gavroche could speak, Eponine interjected with words of her own, every syllable uttered dripping wet with tragedy.

"I couldn't stand…not knowing what happens here. All my friends…"

Gavroche sat next to her and smiled.

"They're my friends too, Eponine."

"I know they are. I…wait, what about you? I _told_ you _not to get involved!_"

Wincing at his sister's fiery tone, Gavroche tried his best not to shrink back at her severe gaze.

"I've got to be here too, Eponine. Like I said, they're all my friends. And I really believe in what they're doing, they're fighting for _us_, Eponine!"

Already resigned to the fact that her brother was adamant about being part of the revolution, Eponine could only sigh.

"Just…keep yourself out of trouble."

"I'll try." Gavroche dragged his shoes on the cobbled ground. "What's wrong, Eponine? Why are you crying?"

With a melancholic smile, Eponine looked away from her brother.

"It's a stupid reason, you don't need to know."

"Tell me, Eponine! I promise I won't laugh!"

Realizing that there wasn't anyone else she could go to for a listening ear in the first place, Eponine's lip started to tremble yet again as she recalled she had done just an hour ago. Gavroche placed his arms around her, forcibly stretching himself a little thanks to his small size, and engulfed her in a hug.

"Just tell me, Eponine."

As a tear rolled down her pale cheek against her struggle to force it back in, Eponine lost all inhibitions as she poured out her heart to her little brother, who sat next to her taking in all that she said.

"Marius saw a girl that he fell in love with instantly…she used to live with us a long time ago, but she was sent away by maman and papa when you were just an infant, so you don't remember anything. He then convinced me to show him the way to her house, and now they've met. She loves him too. He doesn't know, Gavroche! He doesn't care, even after so long! Why, Gavroche, why?!"

Dissolving into sobs, Eponine turned and rested her head against Gavroche's shoulder. Seeing his sister this distraught was making Gavroche emotional himself, however he forced himself to maintain composure to remain strong for his sister's sake.

For ten minutes the two siblings stayed in the rain, allowing it to drench them to their cores.

Once Eponine's sobbing had died down, Gavroche felt anger stirring in his heart. He had known about Eponine's crush on Marius for so long already, how was it possible that Marius had never noticed it by himself? Why did his sister have to suffer for his inattentiveness?

"Monsieur Marius…" Gavroche's gaze darkened as he started to rise from the ground. "I'll go talk to him, he cannot treat you like this!"

"No!" Eponine grasped onto her brother's coat sleeve and held on tight. "Don't do that, he's in love with the girl. As long as he's happy, I'm happy."

"But Eponine," Gavroche sat back down. "You're not happy! You're hurting!"

"Somebody has to make a sacrifice for another's happiness."

Eponine smiled melancholically as she wiped away her tears.

"I'm just glad that I get to do it for Marius."

The siblings embraced yet again. As Gavroche prayed for Eponine's happiness, his sister prayed for Marius'.

The rain continued to fall.

* * *

**Author's Note** – I'm hoping all of you can see what I meant when I said that the plot would be organized in little snippets, but I'm still trying my best to keep a proper timeline of sorts. I've decided to cut out, ignore or brush past so incidents that seemed important in the musical, but were difficult for me to place Gavroche in the spotlight (practically the entire point of me writing this story). As you can see, I've removed Lamarque's funeral procession and pushed up the construction of the barricades, replacing the "threat" from the students to the government with Enjolras' and Marius' first declaration to the people (in the musical/movie this occurs during the song "Look Down"). The sibling scene that I've placed in this chapter comes right after Eponine's "On My Own". I'm trying my best to stick to a linear timeline, at least.

The plot and tone, of course, gets significantly more heavy and depressing from this point onwards. There'll be a little bit of drama (or _a lot_ of drama) next chapter, so be prepared for that.

Reviews appreciated.


	14. Eponine?

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 14**

"State your purpose!"

It was only thanks to decades of military training and similar situations that Javert was not trembling in his boots, now that he was staring down the muzzles of dozens of guns behind the hastily constructed barricade erected by the Les Amis. Javert raised his arms to declare that he was no threat. Dressed in civilian clothing, he was completely inconspicuous from the many people who lived as civilians in the city.

"I am Fabien." Javert's lie came spilling from his lips effortlessly. "On behalf of the revolution, which I support, I have spied on the military and have important information. I apologize for not informing you directly earlier."

At his words, most of the student lowered their rifles. Enjolras, however, did not.

"And what proof do you have that you're not lying straight to our faces?"

Recalling the well-memorized lie that he had tucked in his cerebral cortex, Javert spoke without hesitation.

"I have a wife who lives on the outskirts of Paris. She can testify for my actions. If I may plead to your gentlemen, let me past your barricade and allow me to inform you of the information I have gathered. I am but one man against many, and pose little threat to you."

Finally lowering his own rifle, Enjolras prayed that he wasn't making a mistake by allowing this unknown entity into their midst. Signaling to the men, a small section of the barricade was quickly cleared for Fabien's entrance. Take care to not make any mistakes at this point; Javert stepped through the barricades cautiously, watching as the men closed them as quickly as they had opened them.

Enjolras stepped down from the makeshift barricade and walked to Fabien. Recalling his face from the demonstration at city hall just days ago, Javert was aware of the fact that the man standing in front of him was without a doubt the leader amongst the rebellion. All he needed was to bide his time. One shot in the dark and he would cripple the Les Amis critically by just taking out their leader…

"What is the information that you have gathered?"

As the group of men crowded around him to listen, Javert prayed that he wouldn't slip up.

"There will be no attack tonight. They intend to starve you out…" Javert looked around at the faces that turned angry at his false revelation. "Before they start a proper fight. Only then can they concentrate their forces to hit you all when you're weakened. I also have found out that-"

"LIAR!"

All heads turning in the direction of the shout, Javert saw the person who had dared to challenge his statement, and scowled. He recognized the mischievous little street urchin whom he had caught stealing bread weeks before, and cursed inwardly.

_This little imp will be my undoing!_

Enjolras stepped up to Gavroche, who was now staring triumphantly down at them all from the barricades, and spoke to him.

"Gavroche, what are you saying?"

Grinning haughtily at Javert's pale face, Gavroche unfolded his arms and pointed an accusing finger in the inspector's direction.

"He's lying! He's an _inspector_!"

His brain telling him to make haste and escape before he was caught and properly exposed, Javert felt hands clasping threateningly around his own, restraining his escape. Turning around, he saw Courfeyrac grasping onto him tightly. The student spoke directly into his ear.

"Now, now, monsieur _Fabien_." Courfeyrac glared threateningly at the grey-haired man. "Let's hear what Gavroche has to say, shall we?"

Gavroche, in his usual charm and infectious jubilance, hopped off the barricades and strode superciliously towards the inspector. Without warning, he broke into cheerful song, mocking the inspector, who was now red in face, looking ready to kill him if he hadn't been restrained.

"Good evening, dear inspector

Lovely evening, my dear."

As the men watched Gavroche sing his heart out, Marius shot Enjolras a look of confusion.

"I know this man, my friends,

His name's Inspector Javert!"

As eyes widened simultaneously throughout the streets behind the barricades, the men broke out of their trance as Javert kicked Courfeyrac forcefully by thrusting his legs backwards, causing Courfeyrac to fall over painfully onto the ground. As a dozen hands fell onto him, Javert blindly swiped outwards with his fists, still hoping to take down as many of the men as he could. Above all the commotion, Gavroche continued singing.

"So don't believe a word he says,

Cause none of it's true!"

Javert stopped struggling against the unbreakable wall of wrathful men crowded around him, and threw the child another look of pure malice.

"This only goes to show

What little people can do!"

Grinning at the sight of Gavroche happily flaunting his range and the subtle reference to the song that he had once taught the boy when he had been in a drunken state, Grantaire stuck his head back into the café, shaking it, amused. Javert, in one last attempt to turn the odds in his favor, shouted out to the angry men.

"He's lying! The boy's lying! Don't listen to a-"

"You can shut your trap now, _inspector_." Enjolras spat out the last word maliciously. Resting a hand on Gavroche's shoulder, he flashed Gavroche a proud smile, and was responded to in kind. "Gavroche is one of us, and he doesn't lie. Not to us, anyway."

As ropes descended upon a still-struggling Javert, Enjolras knelt down to Gavroche's eye level and spoke softly to him.

"Well done, Gavroche." Enjolras slowly made his way down the barricades, still looking in Gavroche's direction. "You're the top of the class."

Blushing a little at Enjolras' praise, Gavroche responded sheepishly.

"Merci, monsieur Enjolras."

Nodding once more and striding over to the inspector, Enjolras stared into the man's eyes for an uncomfortable minute before turning to the students who had restrained him earlier, no mercy in his eyes.

"Take this man to the tavern, and make sure he's tied up good and tight!"

Grunting in affirmation at Enjolras' instruction, the men got to their feet and grabbed onto the unmasked inspector. Leaning in close to Javert, Enjolras whispered scathingly into his ear.

"The _people_ will decide your fate, _inspector Javert_."

Glowering at the leader of the Les Amis, the inspector, bound and tied, was taken away by the group of students. As the men looked at Gavroche with more respect, the boy received numerous pats on the back and congratulations. Gavroche stayed silent, only speaking up to thank those that praised him, now feeling far more useful than he had been before.

* * *

"Who goes there?"

Grasping his rifle tightly in his sweaty hands, Enjolras waited a moment before shouting back a reply.

"French revolution!"

A moment of silence. Then, hell.

"FIRE!"

As gunfire was exchanged and smell of gunpowder filled the air, Gavroche fingered his pistol that rested under his coat. The sound of multiple shots being discharged was something that he had expected after learning of the students' plans, but it was also something he had not experienced before. Covering his ears and shielding his eyes from the lights that flashed from both sides of the barricade, Gavroche crouched into a ball and cringed at the traumatic spectacle in front of him.

Almost immediately, a voice in his head screamed out at him to not be cowardly, reminding him of the reasons for his salvation and the debt that he owes them. Bravely and slowly standing from where he squatted, he felt his legs trembling as he stuck his hand deep into his coat. Extracting the lethal weapon, Gavroche reached into pocket and pulled out a handful of bullets that had been provided by Grantaire just earlier.

Reciting the appropriate steps in his head, Gavroche shakily snapped the weapon open and dropped the bullets into it, hearing them clink as they fell onto each other. Snapping it shut, he braced the weapon at his side, and took one more look at the barricades.

His friends were fighting with gusto. None had fallen yet.

Spotting a handy little gap in the wood that made up the makeshift barricade, Gavroche cocked his gun and made slow steps towards it.

He would fight today.

Just as Gavroche settled down onto his spot and prepared to aim the pistol, a shout from behind him startled him, causing him to nearly discharge the weapon by mistake.

"GAVROCHE!"

Looking fearfully behind him, Gavroche spotted Enjolras, who had run back to the armory to collect more ammunition, and had spotted him proceeding to the front of the barricade. He cringed at the look on Enjolras' face, one that spelled fury and fear, a terrifying combination. Striding up to the young boy, Enjolras grabbed the back of Gavroche's coat and hoisted him to his feet, causing him to yelp in surprise. With his head, Enjolras signaled to the men who had noticed the pair to pay attention to what they had to do. He then fiercely whispered into Gavroche's ear.

"I told you that that gun was for _defending yourself only!_"

"I want to fight, monsieur Enjolras!"

"I said NO!"

As Gavroche struggled in his hands, Enjolras stared at the barricades and gritted his teeth as he realized that he had something far more important to do than to look after an impertinent child. Making an impromptu decision, Enjolras then hastened to put it into practice.

Grabbing onto the seat of Gavroche's pants, Enjolras hoisted the boy upwards such that he was now parallel to the ground. Ignoring his affronted yells, Enjolras walked at an alarming pace towards the café. Kicking the door open with his foot, Enjolras pulled Gavroche, who was now dragging his feet on the floor and trying to break loose, into the room.

Only Grantaire was in there, semi-conscious.

Tossing Gavroche onto the floor, Enjolras ignored his pained wince and snatched up the key that hung freely on the side of the café door. With a voice that rejected all further discussion, Enjolras spoke.

"I can't keep tabs on you all the time, Gavroche. Since you don't know how to listen, you're staying here till we're done."

Horrified, Gavroche leapt to his feet, only to be pushed into a chair by the leader of the Les Amis, who was already far beyond his threshold of tolerance for children that misbehaved. Unyielding towards Gavroche's trademark teary eyes, Enjolras turned around and strode out of the café, locking its doors firmly behind him.

Hearing the lock click, Gavroche ran forward to the door and pounded on it.

"Monsieur Enjolras! Monsieur Enjolras!"

Tightening his coat and ignoring the boy's yells, Enjolras strode back to the barricades to continue the battle. After a few more minutes of strained yelling, Gavroche gave up, collapsing on the floor next to the door in a defeated heap. Grantaire, who had been awakened by Gavroche's pounding and yelling, sat and stared at the boy.

"Why are you so eager to fight?"

Not bothering to turn and face his friend, Gavroche mumbled out a response, exhausted by all his yelling.

"I want to help them."

"You're too young to fight. You'd be throwing your life away."

"I don't want to be weak."

Hearing his words, and remembering what Courfeyrac had mentioned to him years ago about a certain incident involving Gavroche and a conversation he had with his sister, Grantaire slowly stood. Ignoring the slight pounding in his head, he snatched up his mug and trudged slowly to where Gavroche sat. Kneeling over and settling himself down onto the floor, he placed a hand on Gavroche's shoulder, and physically turned the boy to face him.

The mug was then pushed in front of Gavroche's face.

"Drink. You'll feel better."

Grasping the mug between his little fingers, Gavroche took a deep breath before tipping the glass, chugging down the remaining beer that rested within it, to Grantaire's shock and partial amusement. Now struggling to think of something to say to the depressed child, Grantaire decided to try and reassure him.

"Things will work out fine, Gavroche."

He had never been more wrong.

* * *

The battlefield was completely silent, aside from the sounds of rifle-butts touching the ground, thanks in part to Marius' threat to blow up the barricade and take himself with it, which had caused the army to retreat and return another day to fight. The silence, however, could also be attributed to the scene that was unfolding in the eyes of all that fought behind the barricades, a terrible reminder of the fate to which many of them might succumb to as the days drew past.

Enjolras and Courfeyrac, shaken by what was in front of them, could do nothing else but watch. Tossing a key stashed in his coat pocket at the man nearest to the café, Enjolras spoke solemnly.

"Let him out. Just…let him out."

The moment the door to the café was unlocked, the young boy practically flew out of it, anxious at the commotion and subsequent silence that he had from behind the door. Hastily pausing his sprint at the glum expressions on every face he saw, Gavroche looked in the direction of the dozens of eyes, and stopped short.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Taking slow steps towards the barricade, Gavroche accidentally bumped into Courfeyrac, who bent down and held onto him tightly in a partial hug. Gavroche blankly stared into his eyes, eyes that conveyed silent condolences. Even Enjolras, who was standing next to him and looking at Gavroche worriedly, didn't look angry anymore.

In shock, and still refusing to accept what his eyes stated as truth, Gavroche broke free of Courfeyrac's grip and continue stepping forward. The few men watching him stepped aside, providing a small path for him to tread upon.

"Eponine?"

Gavroche's voice sounded smaller and meeker than anyone had ever heard. A few men turned away, overcome by emotion. A few others removed their caps and held them to their chests, silently mourning their fallen friend. Gavroche took a few more steps, and stopped.

Marius sat at the foot of the barricades, cradling the body of a fallen soldier and whispering to it lovingly. A fountain of tears seemed to be rolling down Marius' cheeks as he hugged the soldier tight. As Marius shifted slightly, the soldier's face was exposed, and Gavroche's world collapsed in onto itself.

"Eponine?"

Gavroche didn't care that his voice sounded squeaky and fragile. He didn't care that he fell to his knees, skinning his kneecaps. He didn't care that he was crying in front of the same men that he had resolutely refused to show weakness in front of for so long. He didn't care about the rain that started to fall in torrents and soaked him. He didn't care about any of it. Nothing else mattered anymore.

Eponine was gone.

Gavroche didn't feel the pain that stung his knees. He didn't feel Courfeyrac's comforting hands wrapped around his torso. He only wanted to cry.

And cry he did.

As sobs gave way to wailing, Gavroche, the boy who had been forced to grow up at so young an age, became a baby yet again as his tears mixed with the sorrowful rain that fell upon the streets of Paris.

* * *

**Author's Note** – You'll see a stark contrast between two situations and Enjolras' treatment of Gavroche in this chapter. I think it brings out the constantly fluctuating parent-child dynamic even more. I like playing with that. Somehow I don't think my Eponine death scene was emotional enough. Comments and suggestions will be appreciated, as this is obviously not the last sad scene in the story.

In my version, Javert appears right before the battle and is singled out by Gavroche. This doesn't happen in the musical (Javert actually has time to gain the students' trust first before Gavroche finds out about him). To talk-ape, regarding your review and idea of having one of the students save Gavroche from Javert two chapters before (instead of Eponine), I considered that at first, but then I realized that it would be strange for that student to see Javert enter the barricade and not say anything about it, as I wanted the moment to remain a Gavroche-centric event.

Reviews appreciated.


	15. Marius

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 15**

The room was stuffy, after having been closed to the world for around half a year. Dust had gathered on the curtains, the bed sheets were dirty with mildew, and the side tables were absolutely filthy. The bed itself, however, was just as comfortable as three years ago, when a group of students had protected a child and allowed him to regain his health after a brutal beating from his father.

As Gavroche stirred beneath the blanket, Courfeyrac perked up and leapt to his feet, shaking Grantaire and Marius awake.

"Hey, get up. Gavroche is waking."

Mumbling under his breath as his oxygen-deprived brain tried to revive itself sufficiently for speech, Grantaire let out a gigantic yawn, inciting a grin from Courfeyrac and a reluctant small smile from Marius, who was still grieving over the loss of his best friend.

"About time…sheesh. That kid can sleep!"

"You're one to speak, mon ami."

"Mea culpa, mea culpa." Rubbing his eyes, Grantaire sluggishly got to his feet. "I need to use the bathroom."

"Bring up some hot tea while you're at it. It would do Gavroche good."

"Er…right."

Grantaire treaded out of the bedroom, with something other than hot tea on his mind.

Slowly opening his eyes, Gavroche carefully took in his surroundings. Staring up at the whitewashed ceiling and the familiar table on his sides, he looked back up at the ceiling and spoke to himself aloud, confused at the events of the day and how he had found himself back in the same room where he recuperated a long time ago.

"Were the last three years…a dream?"

Laughing at the innocence bubbling in Gavroche's comment, Courfeyrac walked up to the bed and sat on it. Marius remained in his seat, staring blankly out of the window, not speaking or giving any indication that he was aware that Gavroche was awake.

"You skinned your knees a little just now. We brought you up to the guesthouse. Joly popped by earlier to bandage you up."

Shaking off the fog in his head, Gavroche sat up in the bed and stared at the adjacent wall as he took in what Courfeyrac had just said. It hadn't been a dream after all. After quickly getting past the feeling of embarrassment at having _cried_ himself to sleep in the middle of the street, the cold, hard truth hit him like a brick wall. As his eyes pricked for the second time that day, Gavroche stared up at Courfeyrac sorrowfully, dreading to hear the affirmative.

"Eponine…she died, didn't she?"

Courfeyrac didn't want to be the person who had to confirm the truth to the boy, to tell him that his sister was in fact dead, but he nodded solemnly and apologetically all the same.

"Yes…she died."

At Courfeyrac's words, Gavroche immediately looked down at the blanket, not wanting to let anybody see him cry again. As his throat closed up due to his rapid swallowing to cease his urge to cry, Gavroche choked back hot tears that gathered around his eyelids, replacing those that he had lost just hours ago. Watching's Gavroche's rapidly reddening cheeks and pained snivels, Courfeyrac placed his hands on both sides of the boy's face and forced it upwards. Affronted, Gavroche shook his head violently as he tried to look back down, but Courfeyrac's superior strength won.

Knowing that he had to treat the situation with utmost care, Courfeyrac spoke with a serene tone of voice, attempting to reason with the boy.

"Gavroche, listen to me. It's okay to cry."

As Gavroche's head shaking became more emphatic, Courfeyrac leaned in to the boy's face and spoke fiercely.

"You're not weak, Gavroche, you're _not weak_. Crying because of something like this doesn't beget _weakness_. Good grief, if my sister had died, I'd be blubbering like a baby, and I'm twice your age, for heaven's sake. It's _okay to cry_, do you understand me?"

Gavroche looked up in Courfeyrac's eyes, releasing a miserable sob as he screwed up his face, still resisting. Wrapping the boy in his arms, Courfeyrac squeezed his torso and whispered into his ear.

"Just let it all out, Gavroche. Let it all out."

Finally given permission to be vulnerable, Gavroche's inner barricades fell as he shed sorrowful tears for his sister. At the thought of how Eponine had practically single-handedly kept him alive for his entire childhood, the gravity of his situation finally dawned upon him. In a single afternoon he had lost his protector, his friend and his family. The tears couldn't stop flowing, and Gavroche let them, not noticing that he was soaking Courfeyrac's shoulder, and his friend mercifully decided to not pursue the matter if he had even noticed it in the first place.

Throughout it all, Marius didn't say a word.

As Gavroche's bawling slowly ceased, he was then reminded of something that Eponine had said to him just the day before, and a slight feeling of anger rose in his chest as he stared past Courfeyrac's shoulder at his other friend, who was still absent-mindedly staring out of the window, consumed by his own thoughts. Courfeyrac, feeling Gavroche stop shaking against him, slowly got off the boy.

"Are you feeling bett-"

"She loved you, you know."

Courfeyrac couldn't tell which he was more surprised by, Gavroche's sudden severe tone of voice or his accusation that some unnamed girl had loved him. It took a while for Courfeyrac to register Gavroche's gaze, which was resting on Marius, who had turned away from the window in partial shock at Gavroche's sharp tone. Recalling Eponine unrequited love for his fellow student, Courfeyrac then understood. Now feeling very out of place in the room as the other two occupants had a stare-off, Courfeyrac got off the bed.

"I'll leave you two alone for a while."

As soon as the door was shut, Gavroche hastily wiped off his tear tracks with his sleeve and sat upright on the bed, directing to Marius a look that could have quelled the bravest of revolutionaries. Realizing that Gavroche had probably been aware of Eponine's crush on him for a far longer time than he had himself, Marius buried his face in his hands and sighed.

"Well?"

Wincing a little at his little friend's fierce prompt, Marius sank into his chair, looking at Gavroche dejectedly.

"How…how long has she-"

"Five years at least."

Feeling more and more like a jerk by the second, Marius closed his eyes.

"I'm not going to defend myself, Gavroche. I honestly didn't notice."

"How is that possible?!" Leaping off the bed and striding angrily towards Marius, Gavroche growled a little as he glared straight at his friend. "Everyone else knew!"

Confused, Marius opened his eyes and stared at Gavroche.

"What do you mean 'everyone else knew'?"

"That's exactly what I _meant_, you _idiot_!"

Realizing that Gavroche was angry enough to insult him and forget completely about the formalities, which he had gotten so used to hearing from him over the past few years, Marius was completely taken aback when the boy drove his fist into his stomach in blind rage, knocking the wind out of him.

"Oof! Gavroche!"

Gavroche ignored Marius' shout, instead settling for an endless barrage of punches as he continued to try and inflict as much pain as possible on the man who had hurt his older sister so much, and for so long. The punches, weakened by Gavroche's small stature and exhaustion, did little to no damage, but alarmed Marius sufficiently to rise from his seat and grabbed onto Gavroche's clenched fists, holding him back as Gavroche gasped for breath, still trying to advance and put Marius' lights out.

"Gavroche, _please_ listen to me."

"No!"

"Gavroche…"

"I can't believe I thought you were a nice guy!" Gavroche stepped back and dropped his fists to his sides, staring up tearfully at a remorseful Marius. "I can't believe I said it was okay for her to go after you! I can't believe…" Gavroche dashed forward and aimed a kick at Marius' shin. "That you're such a damn JERK!"

Yelling out in pain as Gavroche's kick hit its mark, Marius desperately racked his brain for a solution for containing the young boy long enough to properly converse with him. Bending down, Marius grabbed onto Gavroche's right ankle and, in one fell swoop, lifted him off the ground, a remarkably easy feat considering Gavroche's light weight and small size despite his age. Screaming and swearing to high heaven at being treated like a plaything, Gavroche desperately swung his fists outward whilst being suspended upside down, his jacket falling over his face, but to no avail.

"LET ME DOWN!"

"Listen to me, Gavroche!"

"ARGH!"

It took a while for Gavroche to realize that he was utterly helpless in his current position. Ceasing his struggling, Gavroche folded his arms crossly and looked away from Marius, utterly affronted. Breathing a sigh of relief, Marius tried to ignore how funny Gavroche looked upside down, and spoke.

"I've…never truly loved Eponine."

"You-"

"Please, Gavroche, listen to me first." Marius hastily silenced the boy, whose temper was already flared up. "Romantic love is a…very different thing from the love between friends and family. Romantic love…cannot be forced and…cannot be easily forgotten."

Ensuring that Gavroche was staying silent, Marius continued his attempt at explaining the concept of love as best as he could.

"I cannot claim to be an expert in the topic-"

"I'll say."

"_But_…" Marius pursed his lips at Gavroche's rude interruption. "I can assure you that I've only regarded Eponine as a friend. My best friend, in fact. I love her, but…I've just…never felt _attracted_ to her in that way, you know? Trust me, if I had truly loved Eponine in the same way that I now know that she did, I would have said something to her."

Realizing once more that his best friend was now gone, Marius looked down at the ground in sorrow. Gavroche stared at the man, frowning.

"I'm sorry, Gavroche. And I'm even more sorry to Eponine. I can probably never make it up to her. I don't know how I've never noticed, and if I did I definitely wouldn't have dragged her to find Cosette with me!" Shaking his head at his blatant foolishness, Marius bit his lip as he felt his eyes sting. "Your sister was a _saint_, Gavroche. She was an absolute _saint_ for keeping quiet about it for so long."

There was a moment of silence between the pair for a length of time, before Gavroche spoke up.

"Monsieur Marius?"

"Yes?" Marius smiled lightly; glad that Gavroche had least calmed down enough to not address him with an insult. Gavroche, however, looked positively dizzy.

"Could you let me down? I'm feeling a little weird. I think all my blood is rushing to my head…"

Realizing that he had held the boy in the air for the majority of ten minutes, Marius rushed to set Gavroche back onto steady ground, to which he responded by gripping onto the side of the bed to avoid tipping over at the sudden change in the orientation of his surroundings.

"Sorry about that, but I didn't know how else to keep you from getting angry…"

Swallowing a little, Gavroche sat firmly on the bed, waited for his head to stop spinning and drew in his legs closer to his body. Marius obviously had meant no harm. Even though Gavroche couldn't help but feel angry at the thought of the emotional mistreatment that Eponine had experienced with Marius, he couldn't help but feel a little _sorry_ for the man standing in front of him.

He just didn't know.

Was that really his fault?

"Before the first battle at the barricades, I talked to Eponine."

Sitting back down onto his seat, Marius stared at Gavroche, surprised.

"She mentioned everything that had happened with you and that girl." Gavroche solemnly looked up at his friend. "She said that…as long as you're happy, she would be happy too. And that somebody…has to make a sacrifice for another's happiness."

Feeling himself choke up yet again at the recollection of the last conversation he had with his sister, Gavroche raised his sleeve to his face and wiped, struggling to steady his voice.

"She was just happy that…she got to do it for you, monsieur Marius."

The thought of Eponine's concern for him was far too much to bear. As tears rolled freely down Marius' face, the ones on Gavroche's own mirrored them. The two boys embraced, sobbing freely on each other's shoulders as they mourned their friend and sister. Gripping tightly onto Gavroche, Marius realized that he, Eponine's little brother, was possibly the closest he would ever get to Eponine herself ever again. With that thought in mind, he squeezed the boy even tighter, and his action was similarly reciprocated.

Finally separating, Gavroche, biting his lip, whispered in Marius' ear.

"This…girl that you were talking about…the one that Eponine said you loved…is she _pretty_?"

Surprised that Gavroche was actually asking about Cosette, Marius indulged his query with an honest answer.

"She's gorgeous."

Telling himself that Marius deserved to be happy, just as his sister had intended, Gavroche responded in the best possible way he could think of.

"I'll need to talk to her." Gavroche folded his arms and stared mockingly at Marius with a stern pout on his face. "On behalf of Eponine, I need to make sure that you're fancyin' after a worthy girl."

Laughing a little at the gamin's cheekiness, Marius affectionately ruffled the boy's hair. Apparently, he had been forgiven.

"I'll bring you to see her once we're finished with our work at the barricades."

Gavroche grinned.

* * *

Knocking cautiously on the bedroom door and receiving approval to enter, Courfeyrac and Grantaire entered the room, followed closely by Joly.

"Is everything okay in here?"

Smiling at Gavroche's beaming face, Marius turned to Courfeyrac and spoke.

"Everything's fine."

"Excellent. Now, I asked Grantaire to bring up some tea, but…" Courfeyrac then turned and glared at the drunk student, who grinned sheepishly back at him. "He brought up _beer_ instead."

"Aw, lighten up, Courfeyrac. A little beer won't do anybody any harm. Don't you think so, Gavroche?"

"Oui, monsieur Grantaire! Though, I haven't tried any before, so I don't know if…"

Hearing his words, Joly crossed his arms and looked sternly between the two miscreants, who, upon noticing Joly's frown, tried to look away.

"There's no need to lie, you two. I _know_ you gave Gavroche alcohol before." Joly pointed accusingly at Grantaire. "I could smell it in his breath during my checkup with him that night. And answering your statement, _no_, a little alcohol won't do anybody any harm."

As Courfeyrac and Grantaire took their seats, Joly strode to the bed to check on Gavroche's wounds. Gradually, the sound of light chatter filled the room, something that all present had dearly missed after the many days of preparing for battle against the French military. It was moments such as these, where friends could chat about anything they wished, where the true spirit of camaraderie and solidarity rang clear, in contrast to the barricades where everyone feared for their lives.

"Enjolras wanted to come and see you, Gavroche, but he's busy working with the guys downstairs."

Hearing Joly's words, Gavroche nodded.

"Come to think of it, with the exception of Enjolras…isn't everybody from three years ago in this room _right now_?"

As everyone gave nods and mumbles of affirmation at Marius' revelation, Grantaire picked up a beer bottle and poured it into the mugs that he had previously brought up to the room.

"Alright everyone…I propose a toast-"

"Of course you would."

"To our _friendship_," Grantaire glared at Courfeyrac for the interruption. "And to success in the days ahead."

As the mugs were passed around, Gavroche gripped onto his tightly and looked at the golden liquid inside. It seemed like so long ago that he had tried it for the first time.

"Grantaire, you poured out an extra cup."

"Oh, that's for Enjolras. I'll just…drink that one for him too, if you know what I mean."

As everyone else in the room rolled their eyes, Grantaire cleared his throat and spoke, pausing at every sentence to allow everyone else in the room to echo his words.

"Drink with me, everyone. To the days gone by. To the future that stands before us. To the hopes and dreams of man. May the heavens protect us all. May the wine of friendship never run dry."

As Gavroche drank from his cup, he thought about his sister and how much he would miss her. He thought about his friends, who sat before him, drinking with him. He thought about the future, a future where his friends on the street would never die of hunger and disease again.

That future lay right before him.

It seemed that all he had to do was grab it.

* * *

**Author's Note** – I couldn't resist bringing the characters back into Gavroche's home-for-a-month that I used as the setting the first ten chapters. The Marius + Gavroche thing was challenging to write, but hopefully Gavroche's forgiveness doesn't seem to abrupt for everybody. Since I went for something like this, there wasn't a "Drink With Me" moment on the streets, so I decided to hold one in the room. I swapped most of the lyrics for something a little _less_ depressing, to fit the atmosphere in the room.

The story will end sooner than 20 chapters (which I previously stated, if I remember correctly). Thank you all for sticking with me thus far.

Reviews appreciated.


	16. Brave

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 16**

There was a surreal atmosphere that filled the air as Gavroche walked through the streets, now completely void of people. The doors were all shut, and windows barred. The cold wind that blew through the streets sent a chill down Gavroche's spine, reminding him of a certain winter's night three years ago and causing him to tighten his blue coat, wrapping it more firmly around him to reassure himself.

The people of Paris had abandoned them overnight.

In the chaos that was the first battle of the Les Amis, it appeared that those whom the students had been fighting for had gotten cold feet, terrified by the sounds of gunshots and the sight of crimson blood. Deciding to save their own tails, they had all locked themselves into their houses, praying for the brave students but reluctant to sacrifice themselves for the cause.

Gavroche was angry, but he understood.

Who actually wanted to _die_?

As he strode contemplatively past the shut doors, the darkness of the streets seemed to call to him as the wind whistled past them. It spoke of sorrow, of grief, of tragedy. With an alarmingly foreboding feeling rushing through him, Gavroche sped up his pace as he hastened towards the barricades, where his friends rested.

The sound of a window opening caught his attention, and he turned, only to see a familiar shopkeeper. As the man hastily waved his arm to Gavroche and spoke, trying to convince the boy to enter his home and keep himself out of danger, Gavroche shook his head and walked slowly away. There was no way he would abandon his friends.

He thought about his fellow compatriots that lived on the streets, his little brothers, and hoped that they would stay safe.

As Gavroche neared the loud eruption of noise that came from around the corner, he turned his head and felt his heart leap to his throat.

They had started fighting already.

Dashing forward with all his might, Gavroche raced to the barricades where his friends battled against the military for the second time in two days. Fatigue was very evidently present on the faces of every man that still remained at the barricades, and the fight was tougher than before, especially considering their tremendous drop in the number of fighters still available.

Their passion for battle and fervor towards the cause, however, was still rife in the air. As rifles were reloaded and triggers were pulled, Gavroche could see men falling on both sides of the barricade. Horrified at the sight, Gavroche could feel his lunch lurch in his stomach. Forcing it back down and ignoring the faint taste of vomit in his throat, Gavroche withdrew his pistol, already loaded from the day before, and stayed silent in a corner, not daring to move another step for fear of being hit by a stray bullet.

His eyes widened as one of the soldiers got past the barricade and leapt into the streets where the men fought. No one seemed to notice his presence. Fear bubbled within his chest as the man, rifle still raised, turned to look for a feasible target, and eventually settled on a student far too familiar for Gavroche to forget.

Courfeyrac.

Gavroche wanted to scream and alert his dear friend, but his vocal chords failed him as terror flowed through his veins, nullifying his ability to perceive or react. As the soldier turned his rifle to target Courfeyrac, who was oblivious to the danger that lurked behind him, Gavroche snapped out of his stupefied trance and shakily raised his own pistol.

Gavroche had never shot a gun before; therefore he couldn't explain the events that manifested before his eyes. Perhaps it was the cold adrenaline that improved his visual perception tenfold, or just mother luck shining upon him for that crucial split-second. Gavroche didn't know. All he cared about was saving his friend.

As Gavroche pulled the trigger, he was immediately taken aback by the loud sound of thunder that rose from the tiny weapon, and nearly fell to the ground in surprise. The bullet, powered by the miniature explosion from within the gun, hit its mark, striking the soldier on his arm and causing him to yell out in shock and pain, the weapon clattering noisily on the ground as blood spurted from his wound. Alerted by the shout behind him, Courfeyrac spun around, noticed the soldier, and knocked him out with a solid blow to the head with his own rifle butt.

Their eyes met. Oblivious to the fact that Gavroche had just saved his life, Courfeyrac merely flashed the boy a brave smile before rushing back to the front of the barricades to engage in battle.

His heart pounding violently in his chest at what he had just witnessed, Gavroche tucked his pistol back into his coat whilst still keeping one hand on it, and stepped out of the shadows. Walking up to the unconscious soldier lying on the ground, Gavroche bent down and observed the wound. It was still rapidly streaming blood. His stomach turned to ice as he realized that this was probably how his sister had died.

Hyperventilating slightly at the morbid thought, Gavroche breathed heavily as he turned away from the pool of blood that was leaking and spreading onto the ground. He wanted to be brave, but the sight of life pouring out onto the dirty stones on the street was too much for his youth to bear.

Gavroche walked away from the soldier, not looking back. He tried to steady his breathing, but to no avail.

Around him, hell still raged.

Narrowly avoiding getting stepped upon by a bunch of men who raced out from a corner with weapons in their hands, Gavroche clung on to a wooden pillar and stepped behind it, feeling very much like a child afraid of being hurt. Sweeping his dirty blond hair out of his eyes, Gavroche turned to watch his friends, suddenly feeling very small and insignificant as his companions pushed on, no fear in their eyes.

Enjolras, at the helm of operations, shouting out commands frantically as he reloaded his gun. Without hesitation the leader of the Les Amis fired again, and another soldier fell, his life extinguished in an instant. His red coat standing out amongst the many students that manned the barricades, Gavroche wondered if Enjolras had forgiven him for his disobedience the day before.

Marius, desperately handing out weapons and ammunition to those who needed them. Another soldier scrambled past the barricade. Without missing a beat, the man fired his own weapon, watching the soldier fall at his feet. Eponine loved that man, and he deserved to be happy. Gavroche knew that.

Grantaire, previously absent from the action of the first battle, sitting calmly near the entrance of armory. The man had apparently decided to assist his friends despite his reluctance regarding revolution, and was now keeping stock of the available weapons and ammunition alongside Marius. Gavroche wondered if it had been their moment of camaraderie in alcohol that had convinced the man to stand up alongside the rest of them.

Joly, scrambling agitatedly to a fallen comrade and rapidly inspecting and bandaging his wounds, the doctor within him screaming out with vigor as he hastened to save yet another life. Gavroche had always admired Joly's work ethic, wondering how it was possible to work with blood on a daily basis and not be squeamish around it.

Courfeyrac, looking fiercer than Gavroche had ever seen him, firing away endlessly into the hoards of men that seemed to practically pour out from the other side of the barricade. He was an expert marksman, not missing a single shot. Gavroche recalled how Courfeyrac had saved him from his father's wrath not once, but twice. He practically owed the man his life.

They were all his friends. They were strong, but they needed help.

But what was Gavroche to do? He was so small, so unthreatening, so _weak_.

He was a child, nothing more.

Biting his lip, Gavroche sat down at the steps as he thought about his life. A disastrous childhood in the worst possible family environment God could have given him, and a brutal beating by his own father that left him on the brink of death. It seemed that the heavens mocked him, enjoying themselves as they bullied the young Gavroche. But there was always Eponine, who kept him alive. Then came along the group of students who had treated him as one of their own, taught him things he had never known and cared for him. How lucky was he to have been thrown out of that household? How fortunate was he to have met these people?

He owed them an insurmountable debt, and he just wanted to pay them back. He had promised, after all.

Time seemed to slow as Marius, counting the remaining ammunition available in the armory, shouted desperately to Enjolras. Gavroche didn't process his shout entirely, but the words "low ammunition" rang out clearly in his head. Enjolras' face fell, swearing as he hopped off the barricades towards the armory. As the two students quarreled over who was to cross the barrier and obtain ammunition from the dead French soldiers, Gavroche instantly knew what he had to do.

He rose to his feet.

Walking slowly towards the barricades, Gavroche took a moment and looked at every single one of his friends. They hadn't noticed him yet. Praying for their safety, Gavroche waited for the eyes facing him to turn another direction before hopping over the splintered wood that decorated the makeshift barricade.

Silence.

They had stopped firing.

Forcing down his fear, Gavroche smiled as it seemed to vanish entirely. He felt braver than ever. As the plucky young boy knelt down to snatch up the first packet of ammunition from a dead soldier that lay at his feet, he let out a low whistle as he popped the packet open and saw the large amount of ammunition that it contained.

Enjolras saw him first.

Gavroche ignored Enjolras' shouts for him to return to safety. Marius' own pleas that rang out in the air fell on deaf ears, as did Courfeyrac's frantic and desperate yells. Gavroche could hear some of the men holding the student back as he tried to force himself over the barricade to get to his youngest friend.

Gavroche appreciated their efforts, but nothing would stop him.

He would be _useful_.

As the first bullet, a single shot through the mist, whistled past his ear and burrowed itself into the barricade behind him, Gavroche grinned. They wouldn't hit him, not when he was as confident as this. They wouldn't _dare_ to hit him. He was only a child, a _pup_. But appearances could be deceiving. He'd show them what for.

He'd show them all. He wasn't weak.

He was _brave_.

As Gavroche bent next to his second target lying dead on the ground, he started to sing.

* * *

**Author's Note** – I made this chapter surreal and dramatic by including zero dialogue. Hopefully that worked out. This one was difficult to write, so I hope you all enjoyed it.

Reviews appreciated.


	17. Up

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 17**

"Little people know,

When little people fight,

We may look easy pickins',

But we've got...some...bite!

So never kick a dog...

Because he's just a _pup!_

We'll _fight_ like twenty...armies

And we won't...give...up

So you'd _better_ run for cover

When the pup...grows-"

* * *

**Author's Note – **Epilogue next.


	18. Epilogue

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Epilogue**

"To whoever reads this,

Congratulations on surviving the onslaught of the army, and I pray that we succeeded in our cause. Of course, if you _are_ in fact reading this, I am presumed dead or incapacitated; as I had planned to remove this letter from the café myself if I had survived. My death is unfortunate, however we had all agreed that we would sacrifice even our own lives for the sake of revolution, therefore I surrender myself to the heavens willingly.

My last message to whoever reads this, be it friend or foe, is simple. I want to describe my purpose for starting the Les Amis, for formulating our plots and ultimately threatening the French Republic. If you are a member of France's military, I applaud you for your efforts in the battles and your supposed righteousness that you stand for. I posthumously, and respectfully disagree with your ideals.

A long time ago, the people of France killed their incompetent king, and a new king was selected to lead the people towards brighter days ahead. Unfortunately, the French tried to change the world far too fast, and ended up driving themselves into a pit, one where the rich rested smugly in their beds made of gold and dresses of satin, whilst the poor struggled for food, water and for some, shelter. It is a cruel reflection of what happens when our leaders are consumed and blinded by power, a reality that is not only avoidable, but unforgivable.

Our cause is this: we wanted to bring power back to the _people_ of France. We wanted equality. We wanted a country where no one would have to struggle for survival and resort to breaking the law to stay alive. We wanted to restore France back to the glorious empire it once was.

I started the Les Amis with a small group of friends. In the case where they are in hiding from the law at this moment and a member of the army is indeed reading this, I shall refrain from writing their names. At the point of its conception a mere five years ago, I was a simple first year law student, more worried about my dissertations than the idea of revolution. The thought of overthrowing the king was minute, a passing daydream that occasionally occurred to me. The idea didn't appeal much even to me then, as I was one of the more fortunate of the working class, actually having a home and parents that had jobs bringing in a flow of income that was more than sufficient for survival.

My ideas would have never gotten past that stage if it weren't for an event that truly inspired me to properly plan for a student-led uproar.

On a snowy and chilly night five years ago, my friend brought to this very café an unnamed young boy around the age of eight, brutally beaten, bloodied, and desperately undernourished. I am sure that he would definitely have perished if it weren't for my friend's sharp eyes and noble heart. The cause for his predicament was unknown to us. It was only later that I learnt that his father, an infamous cheat, had nearly killed him with his own hands and cast him out of the family. I was at that point convinced that the boy would die. If he didn't, I was convinced that he would spend the rest of his life traumatized by the brutality inflicted upon him, growing up to become one of the many criminals that lurked the streets for a bite to eat, just like the situation that many face in the Paris of today.

My fears were completely unfounded. Through a month of careful treatment and interaction with my group of friends, we all watched as this young boy blossomed into a ball of youthful and eager energy, jumping at every opportunity to learn and taking on every conversation with a wide smile on his face. Not wanting to be indebted to us, the child left with a promise that he would one day repay our efforts. We see him often, and hear about his selfless spirit, how he often gives whatever little food he has obtained to friends living on the streets that need it more.

The boy represented two sides of Paris to me, one of the present and one of the possible future. On one hand, he was a child born to parents that despised him, a family that funded their survival on criminal activity and didn't have time to care, let alone love a young boy that didn't appear to be able to give much to their cause. On the other hand, if the children of today were to receive care, a proper education and happiness, they could grow up to become citizens of France that actually cared for their fellow-men and for their country.

That ideal future, unfortunately, is impossible under the current government. If the poor continue to suffer under the conditions that they do now, there is no way for our children to grow up happy and healthy. The wheel of darkness and evil that now consumes the streets of Paris will continue to turn, and Paris will never rise from the gutters into which it has fallen.

The boy I mentioned earlier is, hopefully, safe. I have made precautions to ensure that he does not get into the crosshairs of our battles. He is far too young to be involved and far too young to waste his life away, and children shouldn't live like that.

If we had succeeded in our cause, I rejoice with you from the heavens, and pray for brighter days ahead as the people of France forge on forward to restore the pride of our nation. I pray that the boy and the many children like him grow up to _become_ said pride. If, god forbid, we had failed in our attempts, I pray that France will continue to fight and forge on forward regardless to restore our empire. Our victory is not moot. It has merely been delayed by unforeseen circumstances. I have faith that we will succeed in the future.

In either of these cases, if you are one of the student fighters who had survived the onslaught, you would know the boy. Please, on my behalf, pass this letter to him and my apologies for the times where I had been overly strict with him.

Viva la France.

Bien des choses à tous,

Enjolras  
Leader of the Les Amis"

* * *

Hands trembling as he read Enjolras' letter, Marius gently folded up the sheet of paper and tucked it into his coat pocket. As a million thoughts, all involving tragedy and sadness, filled his mind, he struggled to hold back tears as he thought about his friends.

_Eponine. Enjolras. Courfeyrac. Grantaire. Joly. Gavroche._

As he thought sorrowfully about Enjolras' cause and the empty chairs and empty tables that littered the now destroyed café, Marius withdrew the letter and opened it for the second time, reading its contents. He thought about his dreams as a hopeful young student, enthusiastic about the future. He thought about the times he had spent with his friends.

He thought about his many regrets, about how he had never known the truth about Eponine before she had left him, about how he never had the chance to introduce Gavroche to Cosette, like he had promised, and about how Gavroche would never receive the letter that Enjolras had written to him.

Finally unable to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to drown him, Marius leant against a table and wept.

* * *

**Author's Note **– I really enjoyed writing this last chapter, so I'll save my long author's note for the next "chapter". This concludes my story, "Children Shouldn't Live Like This." I hope you all enjoyed it. Reviews would be dearly, dearly appreciated, and I urge you all to review at any time you wish, even months or years into the future. Any feedback would be positive to me as a writer.

See you all in the next author's note.


	19. Author's Note

**Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Final Author's Note**

I am trying to make it a habit of mine to leave behind an author's note that is longer than the others at the end of my stories. Unfortunately, this objective is frequently marred by my fickle-mindedness when it comes to the plots of my own stories. I frequently lose interest halfway through most of my writing projects, to the point that I have only completely one other large piece of fiction on this website. The story belongs to a category that is completely apart from Les Miserables. It was the first story where I had sustained my interest throughout and made a piece of work that I had actually been satisfied with.

I am proud to say that Children Shouldn't Live Like This is my second such work, and I am pleased to say that I thoroughly enjoyed every second of writing it. For readers who had faithfully read through every word and honestly enjoyed it, I pray that you will indulge me by reading through this final Author's Note. I am far from a perfect writer, but I wish to share ideas that I hope some of you will take along in your writing endeavors and apply them as you wish.

As I had mentioned to talk-ape in a private message, I have, thus far, been exposed to Les Miserables only through the new feature film. I am therefore pleased to read your positive reviews with regards to my characterization of the students and Gavroche. A very fortunate coincidence, I'd like to call it. I wish to read Victor Hugo's original novel at some point, though I am thus far satisfied with how the characters came out in this little story. I trust you all are too, and if you're not, I understand where you come from.

I understand, at the very least, the message that Hugo and all other interpretations of the work, musical or otherwise, try to convey through Les Miserables. Therefore, though I had mentioned right at the beginning of the story that I might change some little details, I had always been resolute in fixing one plot detail.

Gavroche would have to die.

I understand that many write fanfics that speak of his survival, and I applaud all who do. Personally, however, I am deeply affected by Gavroche's death and what it means to the entirety of the novel. I therefore decided to kill off Gavroche at the end of my story, which, to me at least, had always been one that was meant to re-dramatize the character and explore his life and the plot of the musical. His life ended in the actual story, and I stuck with that. I trust that all of you who wished for me to do otherwise will understand, and if you don't, I apologize.

Aside from the many mistakes (historical, grammatical or otherwise) I have made on the course of writing the story, my artistic decisions I stand by resolutely. Be it the dialogue-less chapter sixteen, the sixty-five word chapter seventeen, or my decision to not include the immediate reactions of the students after Gavroche's death, I made the decision to do so and I will stand by these decisions. I appreciate all the comments that have asked me for reactions from the other students, but I have no intention to write anything about that. Doing something like this leaves much to the imagination, which I would prefer, instead of laying out every single detail. Treat it as an annoying artistic quirk of mine, if you will.

It had been an absolute joy, writing this fanfic, and I'm stupefied by the sheer magnitude of positive responses (including all genuine criticism and opinions) that had been showered upon it. I urge all readers, whether you stumble upon this story tomorrow or three years from now, to drop a review after finishing the story with your honest opinion. Criticism or praise will still have a positive effect on me whether in the present or the future. Your reviews delight me every morning when I switch on my computer and check my email. To all the reviewers who had been here during my little project (which I finished in less than a month, I just realized), I thank you all sincerely from the bottom of my heart.

I cannot say if I will release any more fiction under this category, but if I do, I pray that you will click on it and try to enjoy my musings. The thought of all of you doing so brings me much joy.

~SUITELIFEFAN


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